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THE  FACTS  ABOUT  SHAKESPEARE 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK   •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO   •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA    •    SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY   •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


The  Shakespeare  Monument  in  the  Parish  Church, 
Stratford-on-Avon. 


THE    FACTS  ABOUT 
SHAKESPEARE 


BY 
WILLIAM  ALLAN  NEILSON,  Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF   ENGLISH   IN  HARVARD   UNIVERSITY 
AND 

ASHLEY  HORACE  THORNDIKE,  Ph.D.,  L.H.D. 

PROFESSOR   OF   ENGLISH   IN   COLUMBIA    UNIVERSITY 


THE  MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

1924 

All  rights  reserved 


PRINTED   IN   THE   UNITED   8TATE8  OP   AMERICA 


Copyright,  1913, 
By  THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.  Published  November,  1913-  Reprinted 
April,  1914;  July,  1913;  May,  November,  1916 ;  January,  191 8; 
February,  September,  1920;  September,  1921;  March,  1922; 
February,  December,  1923  ;  October,  1924. 


Contents! 


I.  Shakespeare's  England  and  London 

II.  Biographical  Facts  and  Traditions 

III.  Shakespeare's  Reading    . 

IV.  Chronology  and  Development 
V.  The  Elizabethan  Drama 

VI.  The  Elizabethan  Theater 

VII.  The  Text  of  Shakespeare 

VIII.  Questions  of  Authenticity 

LX.  Shakespeare  since  1616  . 

X.  Conclusion        .... 

Appendix  A.     Biographical    Documents 

THORITIES 

Appendix  B.     Index  of  the  Characters 

speare's  Plays  .... 
Appendix  C.  Index  of  the  Songs  . 
Appendix  D.     Bibliography 


INDEX 


AND      Au- 


in  Shake- 


FAGR 

1 

17 

50 

67 

89 

117 

131 

156 

167 

188 

203 

226 
241 
243 

265 


THE  FACTS  ABOUT  SHAKESPEARE 


€^e  facte  about  ^afeegpeare 


CHAPTER  I 

Shakespeare's  England  and  London 

Shakespeare  lived  in  a  period  of  change.  In 
religion,  politics,  literature,  and  commerce,  in  the 
habits  of  daily  living,  in  the  world  of  ideas,  his  life- 
time witnessed  continual  change  and  movement. 
When  Elizabeth  came  to  the  throne,  six  years  before 
he  was  born,  England  was  still  largely  Catholic,  as  it 
had  been  for  nine  centuries ;  when  she  died  England 
was  Protestant,  and  by  the  date  of  Shakespeare's 
death  it  was  well  on  the  way  to  becoming  Puritan. 
The  Protestant  Reformation  had  worked  nearly  its 
full  course  of  revolution  in  ideas,  habits,  and  beliefs. 
The  authority  of  the  church  had  been  replaced  by  that 
of  the  Bible,  of  the  English  Bible,  superbly  translated 
by  Shakespeare's  contemporaries.  Within  his  life- 
time, again,  England  had  attained  a  national  unity 
a^d  an  international  importance  heretofore  unknown. 
The  Spanish  Armada  had  been  defeated,  the  kingdoms 


a  t&tje  jFaets  about  fa>&atepeare 

of  England  and  Scotland  united,  and  the  first  colony 
established  in  America.  Even  more  revolutionary  had 
been  the  assertion  of  national  greatness  in  literature 
and  thought.  The  Italian  Renaissance,  following  the 
rediscovery  of  Greek  and  Roman  literature,  had 
extended  its  influence  to  England  early  in  the  century, 
but  only  after  the  accession  of  Elizabeth  did  it  bring 
full  harvest.  The  names  that  crowd  the  next  fifty 
years  represent  fine  native  endowments,  boundless 
aspiration,  and  also  novelty,  —  as  Spenser  in  poetry, 
Bacon  in  philosophy,  Hooker  in  theology.  In  com- 
merce as  well  as  in  letters  there  was  this  same  activity 
and  innovation.  It  was  a  time  of  commercial  pros- 
perity, of  increase  in  comfort  and  luxury,  of  the 
growth  of  a  powerful  commercial  class,  of  large  fortunes 
and  large  benefactions.  Whatever  your  status,  your 
birth,  trade,  profession,  residence,  religion,  education, 
or  property,  in  the  year  1564  you  had  a  better  chance 
to  change  these  than  any  of  your  ancestors  had ;  and 
there  was  more  chance  than  there  had  ever  been  that 
your  son  would  improve  his  inheritance.  The  indi- 
vidual man  had  long  been  boxed  up  in  guild,  church, 
or  the  feudal  system ;  now  the  covers  were  opened, 
and  the  new  opportunity  bred  daring,  initiative,  and 
ambition.  The  exploits  of  the  Elizabethan  sea  rovers 
still  stir  us  with  the  thrill  of  adventure ;  but  adventure 
and  vicissitude  were  hardly  less  the  share  of  merchant, 
priest,  poet,  or  politician.  The  individual  has  had  no 
such  opportunity  for  fame  in  England  before  or  since. 


{&uDor  CnglanD  3 

The  nineteenth  century,  which  saw  the  industrial  revo- 
lution, the  triumphs  of  steam  and  electricity,  and  the 
discoveries  of  natural  science,  is  the  only  period  that 
equalled  the  Elizabethan  in  the  rapidity  of  its  changes 
in  ideas  and  in  the  conditions  of  living ;  and  even  that 
era  of  change  offered  relatively  fewer  new  impulses  to 
individual  greatness  than  the  fifty  years  of  Shakespeare's 
life. 

Shakespeare's  England  was  an  agricultural  country 
of  four  or  five  million  inhabitants.  It  fed  itself,  except 
when  poor  harvests  compelled  the  importation  of  grain, 
and  it  supplemented  agriculture  by  grazing,  fishing, 
and  commerce,  chiefly  with  the  Netherlands,  but 
growing  in  many  directions.  The  forests  were  becoming 
thin,  but  the  houses  were  still  of  timber ;  the  roads 
were  poor,  the  large  towns  mostly  seaports.  The 
dialects  spoken  were  various,  but  the  speech  of  the  mid- 
land counties  had  become  established  in  London,  at  the 
universities,  and  in  printed  books,  and  was  rapidly 
increasing  its  dominance.  The  monasteries  and  re- 
ligious orders  were  gone,  but  feudalism  still  held  sway, 
and  the  people  were  divided  into  classes,  —  the  various 
ranks  of  the  nobility,  the  gentry,  the  yeomen,  the  bur- 
gesses, and  the  common  people.  But  changes  from 
one  class  to  another  were  numerous;  for  many  lords 
were  losing  their  inheritances  by  extravagance,  while 
many  business  men  were  putting  their  profits  into  land. 
In  spite  of  persecutions,  occasional  insurrections,  and 
the  plague  which  devastated  the  unsanitary  towns,  it 


4  W$t  jfacts  about  £>tjafee0peare 

was  a  time  of  peace  and  prosperity.  The  coinage  was 
reformed,  roads  were  improved,  taxes  were  not  burden- 
some, and  life  in  the  country  was  more  comfortable  and 
secure  than  it  had  been.  Books  and  education  were 
spreading.  Numerous  grammar  schools  taught  Latin, 
the  universities  made  provision  for  poor  students,  and 
there  were  now  many  careers  besides  that  of  the  church 
open  to  the  educated  man. 

Stratford,  then  a  village  of  some  two  thousand 
inhabitants,  somewhat  off  the  main  route  of  traffic, 
was  far  more  removed  from  the  world  than  most  towns 
of  similar  size  in  this  day  of  railways,  newspapers,  and 
the  telegraph.  With  the  nearby  country,  it  made  up 
an  independent  community  that  attended  to  its  own 
affairs  with  great  thoroughness.  The  corporation, 
itself  the  outgrowth  of  a  medieval  religious  guild, 
regulated  the  affairs  of  every  one  with  little  regard  for 
personal  liberty.  It  was  especially  severe^on  rebellious 
servants,  idle  apprentices,  shrewish  women,  the  pigs  that 
ran  loose  in  the  streets,  and  (after  1605)  persons  guilty 
of  profanity.  Regular  church  attendance  and  fixed 
hours  of  work  were  required.  The  corporation  fre- 
quently punished  with  fines  (the  poet's  father  on  one 
occasion)  those  who  did  not  clean  the  street  before  their 
houses;  and  it  was  much  occupied  in  regulating  the 
ale-houses,  of  which  the  village  possessed  some  thirty. 
Like  all  towns  of  this  period,  Stratford  suffered  fre- 
quently from  fire  and  the  plague.  Trade  was  dependent 
mainly  on  the  weekly  markets  and  semi-annual  fairs, 


Sports  ant)  plays  5 

and  Stratford  was  by  no  means  isolated,  being  not  far 
from  the  great  market  town  of  Coventry,  near  Kenil- 
worth  and  Warwick,  and  only  eighty  miles  from 
London. 

Shakespeare's  England  was  merry  England.  At 
least,  it  was  probably  as  near  to  deserving  that  adjec- 
tive as  at  any  time  before  or  since.  There  was  plenty 
of  time  for  amusement.  There  were  public  bowling- 
greens  and  archery  butts  in  Stratford,  though  the  cor- 
poration was  very  strict  in  regard  to  the  hours  when 
these  could  be  used.  Every  one  enjoyed  hunting, 
hawking,  cock-fighting,  bull-baiting,  dancing,  until  the 
Puritans  found  such  enjoyments  immoral.  The  youth- 
ful Shakespeare  acquired  an  intimate  knowledge  of 
dogs  and  horses,  hunting  and  falconry,  though  this 
was  a  gentleman's  sport.  The  highways  were  full  of 
ballad  singers,  beggars,  acrobats,  and  wandering 
players.  Play-acting  of  one  kind  or  another  had  long 
been  common  over  most  of  rural  England.  Miracle 
plays  were  given  at  Coventry  up  to  1580,  and  bands  of 
professional  actors  came  to  Stratford  frequently,  and 
on  their  first  recorded  appearance  received  their  per- 
mission to  act  from  the  bailiff,  John  Shakespeare  (1568- 
1569).  There  was  many  a  Holof ernes  or  Bottom  to 
marshal  his  pupils  or  fellow-mechanics  for  an  amateur 
performance ;  and  Shakespeare  may  have  seen  the 
most  famous  of  the  royal  entertainments,  that  at 
Kenilworth  in  1575,  when  Gascoigne  recited  poetry, 
and  Leicester,  impersonating  Deep   Desire,  addressed 


6  W$t  iFacta  about  £>feafee$peare 

Elizabeth  from  a  bush,  and  a  minstrel  represented 
Arion  on  a  dolphin's  back.  The  tradition  may  be  right 
which  declares  that  it  was  the  trumpets  of  the  comedians 
that  summoned  Shakespeare  to  London. 

In  the  main,  life  in  the  country  was  not  so  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  is  now  in  the  remoter  places.  Many 
a  secluded  English  village,  as  recently  as  fifty  years  ago, 
jogged  on  much  as  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Oppor- 
tunity then  as  now  dwelt  mostly  in  the  cities,  but  the 
city  of  the  sixteenth  century  bore  slight  resemblance 
to  a  city  of  to-day. 

London,  with  less  than  200,000  inhabitants,  was 
still  a  medieval  city  in  appearance,  surrounded  by  a 
defensive  wall,  guarded  by  the  Tower,  and  crowned  by 
the  cathedral.  The  city  proper  lay  on  the  north  of  the 
Thames,  and  the  wall  made  a  semicircle  of  some  two 
miles,  from  the  Tower  on  the  east  to  the  Fleet  ditch 
and  Blackfriars  on  the  west.  Seven  gates  pierced 
the  wall  to  the  north,  and  the  roads  passing  through 
them  into  the  fields  were  lined  with  houses.  West- 
ward along  the  river  were  great  palaces,  behind  which 
the  building  was  practically  continuous  along  the 
muddy  road  that  led  to  the  separate  city  of  Westminster. 
The  Thames,  noted  for  its  fish  and  swans,  was  the 
great  thoroughfare,  crowded  with  many  kinds  of  boats 
and  spanned  by  the  famous  London  Bridge.  By  one 
of  the  many  rowboats  that  carried  passengers  hither 
and  thither,  or  on  foot  over  the  arches  of  the  bridge, 
between  the  rows  of  houses  that  lined  it,  and  under  the 


{EuDor  ILon&on  7 

heads  of  criminals  which  decorated  its  entrance,  you 
might  cross  the  Thames  to  Southwark.  Turning  west, 
past  St.  Saviour's  and  the  palace  of  the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  you  were  soon  on  the  Bankside,  a  locality 
long  given  over  to  houses  of  ill  fame  and  rings  for  the 
baiting  of  bulls  and  bears.  The  theaters,  forbidden  in 
the  city  proper,  were  built  either  in  the  fields  to  the 
north  of  the  walls,  or  across  the  river  close  by  the  kennels 
and  rings.  Here,  as  Shakespeare  waited  for  a  boat- 
man to  ferry  him  across  to  Blackfriars,  the  whole  city 
was  spread  before  his  eyes,  in  the  foreground  the 
panorama  of  the  beautiful  river,  beyond  it  the  crowded 
houses,  the  spires  of  many  churches,  and  the  great 
tower  of  old  St.  Paul's. 

It  was  a  city  of  narrow  streets,  open  sewers,  wooden 
houses,  without  an  adequate  water  supply  or  sanitation, 
in  constant  danger  from  fire  and  plague.  But  dirt  and 
disease  were  no  more  prevalent  than  they  had  been  for 
centuries;  in  spite  of  them,  there  was  no  lack  of  life 
in  the  crowded  lanes.  The  great  palaces  were  outside 
the  city  proper,  and  there  were  few  notable  buildings 
within  its  precincts  except  the  churches.  The  dis- 
mantled monasteries  still  occupied  large  areas,  but 
were  being  made  over  to  strange  uses,  the  theaters 
eventually  finding  a  place  in  Blackfriars  and  White- 
friars.  The  Strand  was  an  ill-paved  street  running 
behind  the  river  palaces,  past  the  village  of  Charing 
Cross,  on  to  the  royal  palace  of  Whitehall  and  to  the 
Abbey  and  Hall  at  Westminster.     The  walls  and  sur- 


8  tElje  jfacts  about  ^afeeefpeai* 

rounding  moat  had  ceased  to  be  of  use  for  defense,  and 
building  constantly  spread  into  the  fields  without. 
These  fields  were  favorite  places  for  recreation  and 
served  the  purpose  of  city  parks.  The  Elizabethans 
were  fond  of  outdoor  sports  and  spent  little  daytime 
indoors.  The  shops  were  open  to  the  street,  and 
the  clear  spaces  at  Cheapside  and  St.  Paul's  Church- 
yard seem  to  have  been  always  crowded.  St.  Paul's, 
although  still  used  for  religious  services,  had  become  a 
sort  of  city  club  or  general  meeting  place.  Mules  and 
horses  were  no  longer  to  be  found  there  as  in  the  reign  of 
Mary,  but  the  nave  was  in  constant  use  as  a  place  for 
gossip  and  business.  The  churchyard  was  the  usual 
place  for  holding  lotteries,  and  here  were  the  shops  of 
a  majority  of  the  London  booksellers.  In  its  northeast 
corner  was  Paul's  Cross,  the  famous  pulpit  whence  the 
wishes  of  the  government  were  announced  and  popular- 
ized by  the  Sunday  preachers.  And  here  the  variety 
of  London  life  was  most  fully  exhibited.  The  proces- 
sions and  entertainments  at  court,  the  ambassadors 
from  afar,  the  law  students  from  the  Temple,  the  old 
soldiers  destitute  after  service  in  Flanders,  the  seamen 
returned  from  plundering  the  Spanish  gold  fleet,  the 
youths  from  the  university  come  to  the  city  to  earn  their 
living  by  their  wits,  the  bishop  and  the  puritan,  who 
looked  at  each  other  askance,  the  young  squire  come  to 
be  gulled  of  his  lands  by  the  roarers  of  the  tavern,  the 
solid  merchant  with  his  chain  of  gold,  the  wives  who 
aped  the  court  ladies  with  their  enormous  farthingales 


Commercial  prosperity  9 

and  ruffs,  the  court  gallant  with  his  dyed  beard  and 
huge  breeches,  the  idle  apprentices  quick  to  riot,  the 
poor  poets  in  prison  for  debt  —  these  and  how  many 
more  are  familiar  to  every  reader  of  the  Elizabethan 
drama.  As  often  in  periods  of  commercial  prosper- 
ity, luxury  became  fantastic.  Men  sold  their  acres  to 
put  costly  garments  on  their  backs.  Clothing  was  ab- 
surd and  ran  to  extreme  sizes  of  ruffs,  farthingales, 
and  breeches,  or  to  gaudy  colors  and  jewels.  Enor- 
mous sums  were  spent  on  feasts,  entertainments,  and 
masques,  especially  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  Cleanli- 
ness did  not  thrive,  perfumes  took  the  place  of  baths, 
and  rushes,  seldom  renewed,  covered  the  floor  even  of 
the  presence  chamber  of  Elizabeth.  But  the  comforts 
and  luxuries  of  life  increased  and  spread  to  all  classes. 
Tobacco,  potatoes,  and  forks  were  first  introduced  in 
Shakespeare's  time.  Building  improved,  streets  were 
widened,  and  coaches  became  so  common  as  to  excite 
much  animadversion  and  complaint.  If  some  poets 
spent  much  time  in  the  debtors'  prison,  others  lived  well, 
and  some  actors  gained  large  fortunes. 

The  industrious  apprentice  who  refused  the  allure- 
ments of  pageants,  theaters,  tailors,  and  taverns,  was 
sure  to  have  his  reward.  It  was  a  time  of  commercial 
expansion,  such  as  the  last  generation  has  witnessed  in 
Germany  and  the  United  States.  Bankers,  brokers, 
and  merchants  gained  great  fortunes  and  managed  to 
protect  them.  Industry,  thrift,  and  shrewdness  were 
likely  to  win  enough  to  buy  a  knighthood.     The  trade 


io         1&\)t  ifactsf  about  g>tjatepeare 

of  the  old  East  and  the  new  West  came  to  the  London 
wharves,  and  every  one  was  ready  to  take  a  risk.  The 
merchants  of  London  had  furnished  support  to  the  poli- 
cies of  Henry  VIII  and  were  rich  enough  to  fit  out  the 
expedition  against  Flanders  and  to  pay  for  a  third  of  the 
fleet  that  met  the  Armada.  It  was  a  time,  too,  for  great 
enterprises  and  benefactions  to  charity.  Sir  Thomas 
Gresham  built  the  Exchange,  Sir  Hugh  Middleton  paid 
for  the  New  River  water  supply,  and  there  were  many 
gifts  to  hospitals.  With  all  this  increase  in  wealth,  the 
various  professions  prospered,  especially  that  of  law. 
The  inns  of  court  were  crowded  with  students,  not  a 
few  of  whom  forsook  the  courts  for  the  drama.  The 
age  of  chivalry  was  over,  that  of  commerce  begun.  No 
one  gained  much  glory  by  a  military  career  in  the  days 
of  Elizabeth.  The  church,  the  law,  banking,  commerce, 
even  politics  and  literature,  offered  better  roads  to 
wealth  or  fame. 

The  importance  of  the  court  in  Elizabethan  London 
is  not  easy  to  realize  to-day.  It  dominated  the  life  of 
the  small  city.  Its  nobles  and  their  retainers,  its  cour- 
tiers and  hangers-on,  made  up  a  considerable  portion  of 
the  population ;  its  shows  supplied  the  entertainment, 
its  gossip  the  politics  of  the  hour.  It  was  the  seat  of 
pageantry,  the  mirror  of  manners,  the  patron  or  the 
oppressor  of  every  one.  No  one  could  be  so  humble 
as  to  escape  coming  somehow  within  its  sway,  and 
some  of  the  greatest  wrecked  their  lives  in  efforts  to 
secure  its  approval.     It  is  no  wonder  that  the  plays  of 


W$t  Citp  ano  ttje  Court  u 

Shakespeare  deal  so  largely  with  kings,  queens,  and 
their  courts.  Under  the  Tudors,  and  still  more  under 
the  Stuarts,  the  court  aimed  at  increasing  the  central 
authority  so  as  to  bring  every  affair  of  its  subjects  under 
its  direct  control.  In  London,  however,  this  effort 
at  centralization  met  with  strong  opposition.  The 
government  was  in  the  hands  of  the  guilds  representa- 
tive of  the  wealth  of  the  city,  and  was  coming  face  to 
face  with  many  of  the  problems  of  modern  munici- 
palities. The  corporation  was  in  constant  clash  with 
the  court;  and  in  the  end  the  city,  which  had  sup- 
ported Henry  VIII  and  Elizabeth  against  powerful 
nobles,  became  the  Puritan  London  that  aided  in  oust" 
ing  the  Stuarts. 

This  conflict  between  city  and  court  is  illustrated  in 
the  regulation  of  the  theaters  and  companies  of  actors. 
The  actors  had  a  legal  status  only  as  the  license  of  some 
nobleman  enrolled  them  as  his  servants,  and  they  relied 
on  the  protection  of  their  patron  and  the  court  against 
the  opposition  of  the  city  authorities.  The  fact  that 
they  were  employed  to  give  plays  before  the  Queen 
was,  indeed,  about  the  only  argument  that  won  any 
consideration  from  the  corporation.  This  opposition 
was  based  in  part  on  moral  or  puritan  grounds,  but  was 
determined  still  more  by  the  fear  of  three  menaces, 
fire,  sedition,  and  the  plague.  Wooden  buildings  were 
already  discouraged  by  statute,  and  the  danger  of  fire 
from  the  wooden  theaters  is  shown  by  the  burning  of 
the  Globe  and  the  Fortune.     The  gathering  of  crowds 


ia         W$z  ifactsf  about  £>tjafeespeare 

was  feared  by  every  property  holder,  and  the  theaters 
were  frequently  the  scenes  of  outbreaks  of  the  appren- 
tices. The  danger  of  the  plague  from  the  crowd  at 
plays  was  the  greatest  of  all.  London  was  hardly  ever 
free  from  it,  and  suffered  terrible  devastation  in  the 
years  1593  and  1603.  For  these  reasons  the  theaters 
were  forbidden  within  the  city's  jurisdiction,  and  were 
driven  into  the  outskirts.  The  best  companies  ap- 
peared frequently  at  court,  and  on  the  accession  of 
James  I  they  were  licensed  directly  as  servants  of 
various  members  of  the  royal  family.  The  actors 
were  thereafter  under  the  immediate  control  of  the 
court,  and  certain  "private"  theaters  were  established 
within  the  city.  But  this  triumph  of  the  court  over 
the  long  opposition  of  the  city  was  not  an  unmixed 
blessing  for  the  drama. 

The  theaters  in  1590  represented  the  public  on  which 
they  depended  for  support;  by  1616  they  were  far  less 
representative  of  the  nation  or  London,  and  more  depen- 
dent on  the  court  and  its  following.  The  Blackfriars 
theater,  before  which  gathered  the  crowd  of  coaches 
that  annoyed  the  puritans  of  the  neighborhood,  was  a 
symptom  of  the  growth  of  wealth  and  luxury,  and 
of  the  increased  power  of  the  monarchy;  the  protests 
of  the  puritan  neighborhood  were  an  indication  of  the 
growth  of  a  large  class  hostile  alike  to  an  arbitrary 
court,  luxury,  and  the  theater. 

Shakespeare's  lifetime,  however,  saw  little  of  this 
sharp  division  into  parties  or  of  that  narrow  moral 


flfti^abettjan  incongruities;  13 

consistency  which  Puritanism  came  to  require.  Look- 
ing back  on  his  age  in  contrast  with  our  own,  we  are 
perhaps  most  impressed  by  its  striking  incongruities. 
This  London  of  dirt  and  disease  was  also  the  arena  for 
extravagant  fashion  and  princely  display.  This  popu- 
lace that  watched  with  joy  the  cruel  torment  of  a  bear 
or  the  execution  of  a  Catholic  also  delighted  in  the 
romantic  comedies  of  Shakespeare.  This  people,  so 
appallingly  credulous  and  ignorant,  so  brutal,  childish, 
so  mercurial  compared  with  Englishmen  of  to-day, 
yet  set  the  standard  of  national  greatness.  This 
absurdly  decorated  gallant  could  stab  a  rival  in  the 
back  or  write  a  penitential  lyric.  Each  man  presents 
strange,  almost  inexplicable,  contrasts  in  character, 
as  Bacon  or  Raleigh,  or  Elizabeth  herself.  The  drama 
mingles  its  sentiment  and  fancy  with  horrors  and 
bloodshed ;  and  no  wonder,  for  poetry  was  no  occupa- 
tion of  the  cloister.  Read  the  lives  of  the  poets  — 
Surrey,  Wyatt,  Sidney,  Spenser,  Raleigh,  Marlowe, 
Jonson  —  and  of  these,  only  Spenser  and  Jonson  died 
in  their  beds,  and  Ben  had  killed  his  man  in  a  duel. 
The  student  of  Elizabethan  history  and  biography  will 
find  stranger  contrasts  than  in  the  lives  of  these  poets, 
for  crime,  meanness,  and  sexual  depravity  often  appear 
in  the  closest  juxtaposition  with  imaginative  idealism, 
intellectual  freedom,  and  moral  grandeur. 

The  Italian  Renaissance,  with  its  mingled  passions 
for  beauty,  art,  blood,  lust,  and  intellect,  seems  for  a 
time  transferred  to  London  and   dwelling   alongside 


»4         Qtt)t  jFactsf  about  ^tjafeespeare 

of  commerce  and  Puritanism.  Yet  these  incongruities 
of  character,  manners,  and  motives  that  seem  so  striking 
to  us  to-day  may  probably  be  explained  by  conditions 
already  described.  The  opportunities  created  by  the 
changes  in  church  and  religion,  the  new  education  and 
prosperity,  the  new  America,  and  the  revived  classics, 
all  tended  to  create  a  new  thirst  for  experience.  This 
thirst  for  experience  led  to  excess  and  incongruity,  but 
it  also  furnished  an  unparalleled  range  of  human 
motive  for  a  poet's  observation  and  imitation. 

In  the  wide  range  of  our  poet's  survey,  there  is,  how- 
ever, one  notable  omission.  The  reign  of  Elizabeth, 
like  those  of  her  three  predecessors,  was  one  of  religious 
controversy,  change,  and  persecution.  But  all  this 
strife,  all  this  debate,  repression,  persecution,  and  all 
of  this  great  turmoil  working  in  the  minds  of  English- 
men, find  little  reflection  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  and 
little  in  the  whole  Elizabethan  drama.  Religious  con- 
troversy had  played  a  part  in  the  drama  of  the  reign 
of  Edward  and  Mary,  but  it  rarely  enters  the  Eliza- 
bethan drama,  and  then  mainly  in  the  form  of  ridicule 
for  the  puritan.  Shakespeare's  plays  seem  almost  to 
ignore  the  most  momentous  facts  of  his  time.  They 
treat  pagan,  Catholic,  and  Protestant  with  cordiality  and 
only  smile  at  the  puritan  or  Brownist.  His  England  of 
the  merry  wives  or  Falstaff's  justices  seems  strangely 
untroubled  by  questions  of  faith  or  ritual.  There  is, 
to  be  sure,  plenty  of  religion  and  controversy  in  the 
literature  of  the  time,  but  the  drama  as  a  whole  is 


0n  0gc  of  if  recoom  15 

singularly  non-religious.  It  reflects  rather  that  free- 
dom from  restraint,  that  buoyancy  of  spirit,  that  lively 
interest  in  experience,  which  had  their  full  course  in  the 
few  years  when  the  old  garment  was  off  and  the  new 
not  quite  fitted.  The  immense  intellectual  and  imag- 
inative activity  of  the  period  consists  precisely  in  this 
freedom  from  restrictions,  partisanship,  dogmas,  or 
caste.  Things  had  lost  their  labels  and  some  time 
and  argument  were  required  to  find  new  ones.  Ideas 
were  free  and  not  bound  to  any  school,  party,  or  cause. 
You  grasped  an  idea  without  knowing  whether  it  made 
you  realist,  romanticist,  or  classicist ;  papist,  puritan, 
or  pagan.  After  centuries  of  imprisonment,  individual- 
ity had  its  full  chance  in  the  world  of  ideas  as  elsewhere. 
In  a  few  years  this  was  all  over,  and  your  sphere  of 
life  and  the  ideas  proper  to  that  sphere  were  prescribed 
for  you.  By  another  century,  England  had  fought  out 
the  issues  of  creed  and  government  with  expense  of 
blood  and  spirit,  and  had  settled  down  to  the  com- 
promise of  1688.  In  Shakespeare's  day  there  was  also, 
of  course,  some  movement  toward  fixity  of  ideas,  and 
there  were  great  men  who  strove  to  convert  others  to 
their  ideas  and  to  dictate  belief  and  conduct.  But 
there  was  a  breathing  spell  in  which,  comparatively 
speaking,  men  were  not  alike,  but  individual,  and  in 
which  their  motives  and  ideas  revelled  in  a  freedom 
from  ancient  precedent.  In  this  era  of  flux  the  modern 
drama  found  its  panorama  of  novel  and  varied  expe- 
rience making  and  marring  character. 


16         tEtfje  iFacts  about  £>t)ake$peare 

Shakespeare  lived  peaceably  in  the  heyday  of  this 
change,  nearly  of  an  age  with  Sidney,  Raleigh,  Spenser, 
Bacon,  Marlowe.  Like  Marlowe  in  the  soliloquies  of 
Barabbas  and  Faust,  he  recognized  the  new  possibilities 
that  the  age  opened  through  money  or  ideas.  He  made 
much  out  of  the  commercial  prosperity  of  the  day, 
gained  such  profits  as  were  possible  from  his  profession, 
raised  his  estate,  and  acquired  wealth.  He  gave  his 
mind  not  to  any  cause  or  party  but  to  the  study  of  men. 
The  drunkards  of  the  London  inn,  the  yokels  of  War- 
wickshire, and  the  finest  gentlewomen  of  the  land  alike 
came  under  the  scrutiny  of  the  creator  of  Falstaff, 
Dogberry,  and  Rosalind.  And  like  his  great  contem- 
poraries, he  triumphed  over  incongruities,  for  he  trans- 
lated his  studies  of  the  human  mind  into  verse  of 
immortal  beauty  that  yet  delighted  the  public  stage 
which  was  located  halfway  between  the  bear  dens  and 
the  brothels. 


CHAPTER  H 

Biographical  Facts  and  Traditions 

In  the  time  of  Shakespeare,  the  fashion  of  writing 
lives  of  men  of  letters  had  not  yet  arisen.  The  art  of 
biography  could  hardly  be  said  to  be  even  in  its  infancy, 
for  the  most  notable  early  examples,  such  as  the  lives 
of  Wolsey  by  Cavendish  and  of  Sir  Thomas  More  by 
his  son-in-law  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  Walton's 
handful  in  the  seventeenth,  are  far  from  what  the 
present  age  regards  as  scientific  biography.  The  pres- 
ervation of  official  records  makes  it  possible  for  the 
modern  scholar  to  reconstruct  with  considerable  fullness 
the  careers  of  public  men ;  but  in  the  case  of  Shake- 
speare, as  of  others  of  his  profession,  we  must  needs  be 
content  with  a  few  scrappy  documents,  supplemented 
by  oral  traditions  of  varying  degrees  of  authenticity. 
About  Shakespeare  himself  it  must  be  allowed  that  we 
have  been  able  to  learn  more  than  about  most  of  his 
fellow  dramatists  and  actors. 

In  a  matter  which  has  been  the  subject  of  so  much 
controversy,  it  may  be  an  aid  to  clearness  if  the  facts 
established  by  contemporary  documents  be  first  related, 
and  the  less  trustworthy  reports  added  later.  The  first 
indubitable  item  is  trivial  and  unsavory  enough.  In 
c  17 


18         tE&e  ifacts;  about  £>ljafcespeare 

April,  1552,  a  certain  John  Shakespeare,  residing  in 
Henley  Street,  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  the  county  of 
Warwick,  was  fined  twelvepence  for  failing  to  remove 
a  heap  of  filth  from  before  his  door.  This  John,  who 
shared  his  surname  with  a  multitude  of  other  Shake- 
speares  in  the  England  and  especially  in  the  Warwick- 
shire of  his  time,  appears,  without  reasonable  doubt, 
to  have  been  the  father  of  the  poet.  He  is  described 
in  later  tradition  as  a  glover  and  as  a  butcher;  the 
truth  seems  to  be  that  he  did  a  miscellaneous  business  in 
farm  products.  For  twenty  years  or  more  after  this 
first  record  he  prospered,  rising  through  various  petty 
municipal  offices  to  the  position  of  bailiff,  or  mayor,  of 
the  town  in  1568.  His  fortunes  must  have  been  notably 
improved  by  his  marriage,  for  the  Mary  Arden  whom 
he  wedded  in  1557  was  the  daughter  of  a  well-to-do 
farmer,  Robert  Arden,  who  bequeathed  her  £6  13s.  4>d. 
in  money  and  a  house  with  fifty  acres  of  land. 

To  John  and  Mary  Shakespeare  was  born  a  son 
William,  whose  baptism  was  registered  in  the  Church 
of  the  Holy  Trinity  in  Stratford  on  April  26,  1564. 
He  was  their  eldest  son,  two  daughters  previously  born 
being  already  dead.  Their  other  children  were  Gilbert, 
Joan,  Anna,  Richard,  and  Edmund.  The  precise  day 
of  William's  birth  is  unknown.  The  monument  over 
his  grave  states  that  at  his  death  on  April  23,  1616,  he 
was  "^Etatis  53,"  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
he  must  have  been  born  at  least  as  early  as  April  22 ; 
and,  since  in  those  days  baptism  usually  took  place 


spajmaae  19 

within  a  very  few  days  of  birth,  there  is  no  reason  for 
pushing  the  date  farther  back. 

Of  the  education  of  the  poet  we  have  no  record. 
Stratford  had  a  free  grammar  school,  to  which  such 
a  boy  as  the  bailiff's  son  would  be  sure  to  be  sent ;  and 
the  inference  that  William  Shakespeare  was  a  pupil 
there  and  studied  the  usual  Latin  authors  is  entirely 
reasonable.  About  1577  his  father  began  to  get  into 
financial  difficulties,  and  it  is  reported  that  about 
this  time  the  boy  was  withdrawn  from  school  to  help 
in  his  father's  business.  We  know  nothing  certainly, 
however,  until  we  learn  from  the  registry  of  the  Bishop 
of  Worcester  that  on  November  28,  1582,  two  husband- 
men of  Stratford  gave  bonds  "to  defend  and  save  harm- 
less" the  bishop  and  his  officers  for  licensing  the  mar- 
riage of  William  Shakespeare  and  Anne  Hathaway. 
Of  the  actual  marriage  there  is  no  record.  Anne  is 
probably  to  be  identified  with  Agnes  or  Anne,  the 
daughter  of  Richard  Hathaway  of  the  neighboring 
hamlet  of  Shottery,  who  had  died  in  the  previous  July, 
and  had  owned  the  house  of  which  a  part  still  survives 
and  is  shown  to  visitors  as  "Anne  Hathaway's  cottage." 
The  date  on  Anne's  tombstone  indicates  that  she  was 
eight  years  older  than  the  poet. 

A  comparison  of  the  bond  just  mentioned  with  other 
documents  of  the  kind  indicates  it  to  be  exceptional  in  the 
absence  of  any  mention  of  consent  by  the  bridegroom's 
parents,  a  circumstance  rendered  still  more  remarkable 
by  the  fact  that  he  was  a  minor.     The  bondsmen  were 


20         tU^lie  jFacts  about  £>tjafee$peare 

from  Shottery,  and  this,  along  with  the  considerations 
already  advanced,  has  naturally  led  to  the  inference 
that  the  marriage  was  hurried  by  the  bride's  friends, 
and  to  the  finding  of  a  motive  for  their  haste  in  the 
birth  within  six  months  of  "Susanna,  daughter  to 
William  Shakespere,"  who  was  baptized  on  May  26, 
1583. 

The  record  of  the  baptism  of  Shakespeare's  only 
other  children,  the  twins  Hamnet  and  Judith,  in 
February,  1585,  practically  exhausts  the  documentary 
evidence  concerning  the  poet  in  Stratford  until  1596. 
It  is  conjectured,  but  not  known,  that  about  1586  he 
found  his  way  to  London  and  soon  became  connected 
with  the  theater,  according  to  one  tradition,  as  call-boy, 
to  another,  as  holder  of  the  horses  of  theatergoers. 
But  by  1592  we  are  assured  that  he  had  entered  the 
ranks  of  the  playwrights,  and  had  achieved  enough 
success  to  rouse  the  jealous  resentment  of  a  rival. 
Robert  Greene,  who  died  on  the  third  of  September  in 
that  year,  left  unpublished  a  pamphlet,  Greenes  Groats- 
worth  of  Witte:  bought  with  a  Million  of  Repentaunce, 
in  which  he  warned  three  of  his  fellows  against  certain 
plagiarists,  "those  puppits,  I  meane,  that  speake  from 
our  mouths,  those  anticks  garnisht  in  our  colours" 
"Yes,  trust  them  not,"  he  goes  on;  "for  there  is  an 
upstart  crow,  beautified  with  our  feathers,  that  with 
his  Tygers  heart  wrapt  in  a  Players  hide,  supposes  he  is 
as  well  able  to  bumbast  out  a  blanke  verse  as  the  best 
of  you ;   and  being  an  absolute  Johannes  Factotum,  is 


"  Wtyt  onlp  £>tjafee;gfcene  "  21 

in  his  owne  conceit  the  only  Shake-scene  in  a  countrie. 
O  that  I  might  intreate  your  rare  wits  to  be  imployed 
in  more  profitable  courses,  and  let  those  apes  imitate 
your  past  excellence,  and  never  more  acquaint  them 
with  your  admired  inventions !  I  know  the  best 
husband  of  you  all  will  never  prove  an  usurer,  and  the 
kindest  of  them  all  wil  never  proove  a  kinde  nurse ;  yet, 
whilst  you  may,  seeke  you  better  maisters,  for  it  is  pittie 
men  of  such  rare  wits  should  be  subject  to  the  pleas- 
ures of  such  rude  groomes."  The  phrase  about  the 
"tyger's  heart"  is  an  obvious  parody  on  the  line, 

Oh  Tiger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  woman's  hide  ! 

which  occurs  both  in  The  True  Tragedie  of  Richard  Duke 
of  Yorke,  and  in  the  variant  of  that  play  which  is 
included  in  the  First  Folio  as  the  third  part  of  Henry  VI. 
"The  only  Shake-scene"  has  naturally  been  taken  as 
an  allusion  to  Shakespeare's  name ;  and  it  is  scarcely 
possible  to  doubt  the  reference  to  him  throughout  the 
passage.  This  being  so,  we  may  infer  that  by  this  date 
Shakespeare  had  written,  with  whatever  else,  his  share 
in  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI,  and  was  successful 
enough  to  seem  formidable  to  the  dying  Greene.  It 
is  noteworthy,  too,  that  thus  early  we  have  allusion 
to  his  double  profession :  as  an  actor  in  the  words 
"player's  hide"  and  "Shake-scene,"  and  as  an  author 
in  the  charge  of  plagiarism.  That  the  reference  in 
"beautified  with  our  feathers"  is  to  literary  plagiarism 
is  confirmed  by  the  following  lines  from  Greene's  Funer- 


22         {E^e  jFaets  about  £>t)ake$peare 

alls,  by  R.  B.,  1594,  which  seem  to  have  been  suggested 
by  Greene's  phrase : 

Greene  is  the  ground  of  everie  painters  die ; 
Greene  gave  the  ground  to  all  that  wrote  upon  him. 
Nay,  more,  the  men  that  so  eclipst  his  fame, 
Purloynde  his  plumes :  can  they  deny  the  same  ? 

Somewhat  less  certain  is  the  allusion  in  a  document 
closely  connected  with  the  foregoing.  Greenes  Groats- 
worth  had  been  prepared  for  the  press  by  his  friend 
Henry  Chettle,  and  in  the  address  "To  the  Gentlemen 
Readers  "  prefixed  to  his  Kind-Harts  Dreame  (registered 
December  8,  1592),  Chettle  regrets  that  he  has  not 
struck  out  from  Greene's  book  the  passages  that  have 
been  "  offensively  by  one  or  two  of  them  taken."  "  With 
neither  of  them  that  take  offence  was  I  acquainted, 
and  with  one  of  them  I  care  not  if  I  never  be.  The 
other,  whome  at  that  time  I  did  not  so  much  spare  as 
since  I  wish  I  had,  for  that  as  I  have  moderated  the 
heate  of  living  writers,  and  might  have  usde  my  owne 
discretion,  —  especially  in  such  a  case,  the  Author 
beeing  dead,  —  that  I  did  not,  I  am  as  sory,  as  if  the 
originall  fault  had  beene  my  fault,  because  myselfe  have 
seene  his  demeanor  no  lesse  civill,  than  he  exelent  in 
the  qualitie x  he  professes :  Besides,  divers  of  worship 
have  reported  his  uprightnes  of  dealing,  which  argues 
his  honesty,  and  his  facetious  grace  in  writing,  that 

1  /.«.,  profession,  used  especially  at  that  time  of  the  profession 
of  acting. 


jfet  publications!  23 

aprooves  his  Art."  This  characterization  so  well  fits 
in  with  the  tone  of  later  contemporary  allusions  to 
Shakespeare  that  it  is  regrettable  that  Chettle  did  not 
make  its  reference  to  him  beyond  a  doubt. 

Within  a  few  months  after  the  disturbance  caused 
by  Greene's  charges,  Shakespeare  appeared  in  the  field 
of  authorship  in  quite  unambiguous  fashion.  On 
April  18,  1593,  Richard  Field,  himself  a  Stratford  man, 
entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  a  book  entitled  Venus  and 
Adonis.  The  dedication,  which  is  to  the  Earl  of  South- 
ampton, is  signed  by  "William  Shakespeare,"  and  the 
state  of  the  text  confirms  the  inference  that  the  poet 
himself  oversaw  the  publication.  The  terms  of  the 
dedication,  read  in  the  light  of  contemporary  examples 
of  this  kind  of  writing,  do  not  imply  any  close  relation 
between  poet  and  patron;  and  the  phrase  "the  first 
heyre  of  my  invention,"  applied  to  the  poem,  need  not 
be  taken  as  placing  its  composition  earlier  than  any 
of  the  plays,  since  writing  for  the  stage  was  then  scarcely 
regarded  as  practising  the  art  of  letters.  Lucrece  was 
registered  May  9,  1594,  and  appeared  likewise  without 
a  name  on  the  title-page,  but  with  Shakespeare's  full 
signature  attached  to  a  dedication,  somewhat  more 
warmly  personal  than  before,  to  the  same  nobleman. 
The  frequency  of  complimentary  references  to  these 
poems,  and  the  number  of  editions  issued  during  the 
poet's  lifetime  (seven  of  Venus,  and  five  of  Lucrece), 
indicate  that  it  was  through  them  that  he  first  obtained 
literary  distinction. 


34         XEfyt  jfaets  about  £>tjatepeare 

Meanwhile  he  was  gaining  a  footing  as  an  actor. 
The  accounts  of  the  Treasurer  of  the  Chamber  for 
March  15,  1594-5,  bear  record  of  Shakespeare's  hav- 
ing been  summoned,  along  with  Kempe  and  Burbage, 
as  a  member  of  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Company,  to 
present  two  comedies  before  the  Queen  at  Greenwich 
Palace  in  the  Christmas  season  of  1594.  This  is  the 
earliest  mention  of  the  poet  as  sharing  with  his  company 
a  kind  of  recognition  as  honorable  as  it  was  profitable. 

The  records  now  take  us  back  to  his  family.  On 
August  11,  1596,  his  only  son  Hamnet  was  buried.  In 
the  same  year  John  Shakespeare  applied  to  the  College 
of  Heralds  for  a  grant  of  arms,  basing  the  claim  on 
services  of  his  ancestors  to  Henry  VII,  the  continued 
good  reputation  of  the  family,  and  John's  marriage  to 
"Mary,  daughter  and  heiress  of  Robert  Arden,  of  Wilm- 
cote,  gent."  Since  there  is  evidence  to  show  that  the 
financial  difficulties  that  had  beset  John  Shakespeare 
before  his  son  went  to  London  had  continued,  and  since 
the  attempts  of  actors  to  obtain  gentility  by  grants  of 
arms  were  not  uncommon,  it  is  likely  that  the  poet 
was  the  moving  force  in  this  matter.  Though  a  draft 
granting  this  request  was  drawn  up,  it  was  not  ex- 
ecuted;  but  in  1599  a  renewed  application  was  suc- 
cessful, the  heralds  giving  an  exemplification  of  the  coat 
which  the  applicants  claimed  had  been  assigned  them 
in  1568,  "Gold,  on  a  bend  sable,  a  spear  of  the  first, 
and  for  his  crest  or  cognizance  a  falcon,  his  wings 
displayed  argent,  standing  on  a  wreath  of  hi*  e»krurs. 


tEtje  purchase  of  ipeto  place         35 

supporting  a  spear  gold  steeled  as  aforesaid."  The 
motto  is  "Non  Sans  Droit."  These  arms  appear  on 
the  monument  over  Shakespeare's  grave  in  Trinity 
Church  in  Stratford,  and,  impaled  with  the  Hall  arms, 
on  the  tombstone  of  his  daughter  Susanna  and  her  hus- 
band John  Hall. 

A  more  substantial  step  towards  restoring  the 
standing  of  the  family  was  taken  when  the  poet  bought 
on  May  4,  1597,  for  sixty  pounds,  New  Place,  the 
largest  house  in  Stratford.  This  was  only  the  beginning 
of  a  considerable  series  of  investments  of  the  profits  of 
his  professional  life  in  landed  and  other  property  in  his 
native  district.  On  his  father's  death  in  1601  he  in- 
herited the  two  houses  in  Henley  Street,  the  only  real 
property  of  which  the  elder  Shakespeare  had  retained 
possession ;  and  in  one  of  these  the  poet's  mother  lived 
until  her  death  in  1608.  About  a  hundred  and  seven 
acres  of  arable  land  with  common  pasture  appertaining 
to  it  was  conveyed  to  the  poet  on  May  1,  1602,  by  Wil- 
liam and  John  Combe,  of  Warwick  and  Old  Stratford 
respectively,  in  consideration  of  £320 ;  and  twenty 
acres  of  pasture  land  were  acquired  from  the  same 
owners  in  1610.  On  September  28,  1602,  the  Court 
Rolls  of  the  Manor  of  Rowington  record  the  transfer  to 
Shakespeare  from  Walter  Getley  of  a  cottage  and 
garden  in  Chapel  Lane,  Stratford.  In  1605  he  paid 
£440  for  the  thirty-one  years  remaining  of  a  lease  of 
the  Stratford  tithes,  a  purchase  which  involved  him  in 
a  considerable  amount  of  litigation.     It  was  through 


36         tEtje  jFacts  about  ^fjafeespeare 

this  acquisition  that  he  became  involved  in  the  dispute 
over  the  attempted  inclosure  of  certain  common  fields 
belonging  to  the  town  of  Stratford.  John  Combe,  who 
died  in  July,  1614,  bequeathing  Shakespeare  £5,  left 
as  heir  a  son,  William,  who  with  Arthur  Mannering, 
sought  to  annex  to  their  respective  estates  the  aforesaid 
common  lands.  After  having  secured  a  deed  safe- 
guarding himself  as  part  owner  of  the  tithes  from  any 
loss  that  might  result  from  the  inclosure,  Shakespeare 
seems  to  have  lent  his  influence  to  Combe,  in  spite  of 
the  requests  of  the  corporation  for  aid.  The  inclosure 
was  not  carried  out. 

His  investments  were  not  confined  to  his  native 
county.  A  deed  of  sale  has  come  down  to  us  concern- 
ing the  purchase  of  a  house  near  the  Blackfriars  Theater 
in  London,  in  March,  1613.  The  price  was  £140; 
but  on  the  following  day,  March  11,  Shakespeare  gave 
the  previous  owner,  Henry  Walker,  a  mortgage  deed 
for  £60,  which  he  never  seems  to  have  paid  off.  There 
is  evidence  of  his  ownership  of  other  property  in 
Blackfriars  in  three  documents,  recently  discovered  by 
Professor  C.  W.  Wallace,  dealing  with  a  suit  in  Chancery, 
and  dated  April  26,  May  15,  and  May  22, 1615,  in  which 
Shakespeare  and  others  sought  to  obtain  from  one 
Matthew  Bacon  possession  of  certain  deeds  pertaining 
to  their  property  within  the  precinct  of  Blackfriars. 

Other  traces  of  Shakespeare's  business  transactions 
suggest  that  he  was  by  no  means  averse  to  going  to  law. 
After  his  resumption  of  relations  with  Stratford  in 


iUtigatton  27 

1596,  we  find  his  parents  engaged  (November,  1597) 
in  a  lawsuit,  the  outcome  of  which  does  not  appear  to 
recover  the  mortgaged  estate  of  Asbies,  which  had 
formed  part  of  his  mother's  inheritance.  The  years 
1600,  1604,  1608,  and  1609  all  contain  records  of  suits 
by  the  poet  to  recover  small  sums  of  money;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  find  tax  collectors  in  London  seek- 
ing payment  of  taxes  incurred  on  his  goods  while  he 
lived  in  the  parish  of  St.  Helen's,  Bishopgate,  in  1593 
or  1594.  These  claims  Shakespeare  satisfied  some 
years  later  when  he  was  living  across  the  river  in  South- 
ward The  documents  of  a  law  case  of  1612,  recently 
discovered  by  Professor  C.  W.  Wallace  in  the  Public 
Record  office,  include  Shakespeare's  deposition  as  a 
witness  and  add  some  interesting  information.  It 
appears  that,  possibly  from  1598  to  1604,  he  lodged  in 
the  house  of  Christopher  Mountjoy,  a  wigmaker,  at 
the  corner  of  Muggle  and  Silver  streets  near  Cripple- 
gate.  In  1604  he  had  aided  in  arranging  the  marriage 
of  Mary  Mountjoy  to  her  father's  apprentice,  Stephen 
Bellott.  The  lawsuit  was  brought  by  Bellott  against 
his  father-in-law  to  secure  the  dowry  and  promise  of 
inheritance.  Shakespeare's  negotiations  in  regard  to 
the  marriage  play  an  important  part  in  the  various 
depositions,  as  the  question  whether  a  dowry  of  £50 
had  been  promised  was  crucial  to  the  case.  Shake- 
speare himself  was  examined  on  September  11,  but  the 
poet  failed  to  remember  that  a  definite  sum  had  been 
agreed  upon  for  the  dowry. 


38         W$  iFacts  about  £>fiafte$peare 

Further  evidence  relating  to  Shakespeare  as  a  man 
of  substance  is  to  be  found  in  letters  in  the  Stratford 
archives,  written  by  prominent  townsmen.  One,  from 
Abraham  Sturley  to  a  relative  in  London  on  the  busi- 
ness of  the  town  of  Stratford,  dated  January  24, 
1597-8,  contains  a  reference  to  "Mr.  Shaksper"  as 
"willing  to  disburse  some  money  upon  some  odd  yard- 
land  or  other  at  Shottery  or  near  about  us,"  and  sug- 
gests urging  upon  Shakespeare  the  purchase  of  the 
tithes.  It  seems  fairly  certain  from  other  letters  of 
Sturley's  that  this  one  was  addressed  to  Richard  Quiney, 
father  of  Shakespeare's  future  son-in-law,  Thomas 
Quiney.  On  October  25  of  the  same  year,  this  Richard 
Quiney  wrote  from  the  Bell  in  Carter  Lane,  London, 
"to  my  loving  friend  and  countryman,  Mr.  Wm. 
Shackespere,"  asking  for  his  help  with  £30.  From  a 
letter  from  Abraham  Sturley  to  Richard  Quiney  on  the 
following  fourth  of  November  it  appears  that  Quiney 
was  seeking  an  enlargement  of  the  charter  of  Stratford, 
with  a  view  to  an  increase  of  revenue.  In  Sturley's 
previous  letter  reference  had  been  made  to  an  attempt 
to  gain  "an  ease  and  discharge  of  such  taxes  and  sub- 
sidies wherewith  our  town  is  like  to  be  charged,  and  I 
assure  you  I  am  in  great  fear  and  doubt  by  no  means 
able  to  pay."  In  this  extreme  condition  of  affairs 
Sturley  heard  with  satisfaction  "that  our  countryman 
Mr.  Wm.  Shak.  would  procure  us  money,  which  I  will 
like  of  as  I  shall  here  when,  and  where,  and  how ;  and 
I  pray  let  not  go  that  occasion  if  it  may  sort  to  any 


^professional  progress  39 

indifferent  conditions."  The  poet  is  probably  referred 
to  in  still  another  letter,  of  about  the  same  period,  to 
Richard  Quiney,  this  time  from  his  father  Adrian: 
"If  you  bargain  with  Wm.  Sha.,  or  receive  money 
therefor,  bring  your  money  home  that  you  may." 
All  of  these  documents  carry  the  unmistakable  impli- 
cation that  William  Shakespeare  in  London  was  re- 
garded by  his  fellow-townsmen  as  a  person  of  resources, 
likely  to  be  of  service  to  his  friends  in  financial  stress. 
If  we  return  now  to  the  evidences  of  Shakespeare's 
professional  progress,  we  shall  see  whence  these  re- 
sources were  derived.  Confining  ourselves  still  to 
explicit  and  unambiguous  records,  we  find  the  year 
1598  marking  Shakespeare's  emergence  as  actor  and 
dramatist  into  a  somewhat  opener  publicity.  The 
quarto  editions  of  Richard  II  and  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
issued  that  year,  are  the  first  plays  to  exhibit  his  name 
on  the  title-page;  and  in  the  1616  folio  edition  of 
Ben  Jonson's  works,  attached  to  Every  Man  in  His 
Humour,  is  the  statement:  "This  Comedie  was  first 
Acted  in  the  yeere  1598  by  the  then  L.  Chamberleyne 
his  servants.  The  principal  Comedians  were  Will. 
Shakespeare,  Aug.  Philips,  Hen.  Condel,  Will.  Slye, 
Will.  Kempe,  Ric.  Burbadge,  Joh.  Hemings,  Tho. 
Pope,  Chr.  Beeston,  Joh.  Dyke."  These  evidences  of 
prominence  are  more  than  corroborated  by  the  famous 
passage  in  the  Palladis  Tamia  (1598)  of  Francis  Meres, 
in  which  he  not  only  compares  the  "mellifluous  and 
honey-tongued  Shakespeare"  with  Ovid  for  his  Venus 


3©         tEtje  jFactg  about  £>l)afee0peare 

and  Adonis,  his  Lucrece,  "his  sugred  sonnets  among  his 
private  friends,"  but  with  Plautus  and  Seneca  for  his 
excellence  "in  both  kinds  for  the  stage;  for  comedy, 
witness  his  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  his  Errors,  his  Love 
Labors  Lost,  his  Love  Labours  Wonne,  his  Midsummers 
Night  Dreame,  and  his  Merchant  of  Venice ;  for  tragedy, 
his  Richard  the  2,  Richard  the  3,  Henry  the  4,  King 
John,  Titus  Andronicus,  and  his  Romeo  and  Juliet." 
Barnfield  in  the  same  year  harps  on  the  "honey-flowing 
vein"  of  the  author  of  Venus  and  Lucrece,  and  "honey- 
tongued"  is  again  the  opening  epithet  of  John  Weever's 
epigram  "Ad  Gulielmum  Shakespeare"  (1599),  in 
which  "  Romeo  "  and  "Richard''''  share  the  praises  with  the 
narrative  poems.  From  this  time  on,  publishers  of  the 
plays  recognize  Shakespeare's  reputation  by  generally 
placing  his  name  on  the  title-page  :  a  form  of  compli- 
ment which  the  author  probably  did  not  appreciate 
when  it  was  extended,  as  in  the  case  of  The  Passionate 
Pilgrim  (1599),  to  pirated  works,  some  of  which 
were  meant  to  be  private,  and  others  were  not  by 
him  at  all. 

Reminiscences  or  references  to  his  works  are  frequent 
in  contemporary  literature.  Among  these  are  several 
passages  in  two  plays,  The  Return  from  Parnassus,  acted 
in  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  about  1601.  In  one 
passage,  Kempe,  the  famous  actor,  speaks  slightingly 
of  the  acting  qualities  of  the  plays  by  university  pens 
and  continues,  "Why  here's  our  fellow  Shakespeare 
puts  them  all  down,  ay,  and  Ben  Jonson  too,"  — 


Contemporary  #llu$tonsf  31 

another  identification  of  the  actor  and  the  dramatist 
Shakespeare.  Another  character  in  these  plays  prefers 
Shakespeare  to  Chaucer,  Gower,  and  Spenser.  Less 
enthusiastic  though  sincerely  appreciative  is  John 
Webster,  who,  in  the  address  to  the  Reader  prefixed 
to  The  White  Devil,  1612,  acknowledges  his  indebtedness 
to  his  predecessors,  Chapman,  Jonson,  Beaumont,  and 
Fletcher  and  to  "the  right  happy  and  copious  industry 
of  Master  Shakespeare,  Master  Dekker,  and  Master 
Heywood."  Though  of  widely  varying  significance 
and  interest,  the  numerous  allusions  to  Shakespeare 
or  to  his  plays  give  further  testimony  to  his  growing 
reputation. 

While  it  is  probable  that  the  sale  of  Shakespeare's 
poems  brought  him  in  some  financial  return,  he  is  not 
likely  to  have  profited  from  the  publication  of  his 
plays.  The  playwright  at  that  time  sold  his  product  to 
the  manager  or  company,  and  thereby  gave  up  all  rights. 
To  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century  managers  usually 
paid  from  £5  to  £11  for  a  new  play,  adding  a  bonus 
in  the  case  of  success,  and  sometimes  a  share  of  the  pro- 
ceeds of  the  second  performance.  During  the  first  dec- 
ade of  Shakespeare's  activity  as  a  dramatist,  then,  we 
may  calculate  that  he  obtained  for  about  twenty-one 
plays  an  average  of  about  £10  each,  which,  making  the 
usual  allowance  for  the  greater  purchasing  power  of 
money,  would  be  equivalent  to  about  $400,  or  an  annual 
income  of  about  $800.  During  his  second  decade  the 
prices  for  plays  had  so  risen  that  he  may  be  estimated 


32         tEtje  jFact*  about  gtyatopeare 

to  have  received  about  twice  as  much  from  this  source 
as  in  the  early  half  of  his  career. 

More  profitable  than  playwriting  was  acting.  Lee 
estimates  Shakespeare's  salary  as  an  actor  before  1599 
at  £100  a  year  at  least,  exclusive  of  special  rewards 
for  court  performances,  and  we  know  that  by  1635  an 
actor-shareholder,  such  as  Shakespeare  latterly  was, 
had  a  salary  of  £180.  Besides  this,  he  became  about 
1599  a  sharer,  with  Heming,  Condell,  Philips,  and 
others,  in  the  receipts  of  the  Globe  Theater,  erected 
in  1597-8  by  Richard  and  Cuthbert  Burbage.  The 
annual  income  from  a  single  share  was  over  £200, 
and  Shakespeare  may  have  had  more  than  one.  In 
1610  he  became  a  sharer  also  in  the  smaller  Blackfriars 
Theater,  after  it  had  been  acquired  by  the  Burbages. 

The  evidence  thus  accumulated  of  Shakespeare's 
having  acquired  a  substantial  fortune  is  corroborated 
by  what  we  know  of  the  earnings  of  other  members  of  his 
profession,  and  it  leaves  no  mystery  about  the  source 
of  the  capital  which  he  invested  in  real  property  in 
Stratford  and  London. 

The  death  of  Elizabeth  and  the  accession  of  James  I 
improved  rather  than  impaired  Shakespeare's  prospects. 
A  patent,  dated  May  19,  1603,  authorizes  the  King's 
servants,  "Lawrence  Fletcher,  William  Shakespeare, 
Richard  Burbage  .  .  .  and  the  rest  of  their  associats 
freely  to  use  and  exercise  the  arte  and  faculty  of  playing 
comedies,  tragedies,  histories,  interludes,  moralls, 
pastorals,   stage-plaies,   and    such  other  like  as  they 


<S5rotomg  prosperity  33 

have  already  studied,  or  hereafter  shall  use  or  studie, 
as  well  for  the  recreation  of  our  lovinge  subjects,  as  for 
our  solace  and  pleasure  when  we  shall  thinke  good  to 
see  them,  duringe  our  pleasure."  By  this  document 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's  Company  became  the  King's, 
and  so  remained  during  the  rest  of  Shakespeare's 
connection  with  the  stage.  At  least  a  dozen  instances 
are  recorded  in  the  Revels  Accounts  of  the  Company's 
having  acted  before  his  Majesty,  and  on  the  occasion 
of  a  performance  before  the  court  at  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke's mansion  of  Wilton  House,  £30  was  given  them 
"by  way  of  his  majesty's  reward."  Shakespeare's 
name  stands  first  in  a  list  of  nine  actors  who  walked  in 
a  procession  on  the  occasion  of  James's  entry  into 
London,  March  15,  1604,  when  each  actor  was  granted 
four  yards  and  a  half  of  scarlet  cloth  for  cloaks  for  the 
occasion. 

This  recognition  by  the  court  is  the  latest  evidence 
we  have  of  Shakespeare's  belonging  to  the  profession  of 
acting.  He  is  mentioned  in  the  Jonson  Folio  of  1616 
as  playing  a  part  in  Sejanus  in  1603 ;  but  his  name 
is  absent  from  the  list  of  the  King's  servants,  as  his 
company  had  now  become,  when  they  performed 
Volpone  in  1605,  The  Alchemist  in  1610,  and  Catiline 
in  1611.  It  would  thus  seem  that  he  gave  up  acting 
shortly  after  the  death  of  Elizabeth. 

The  date  of  his  withdrawal  from  London  to  Stratford 
is  less  precisely  indicated.  The  likelihood  is  that  the 
transference   was   gradual;    for  after   1611,   the  date 

D 


34         tElje  jFacts  about  gs^afcespeare 

usually  conjectured  for  his  retirement  from  the  metrop- 
olis, we  have  indications  of  at  least  occasional  activ- 
ities there,  as  in  the  collaboration  with  Fletcher,  now 
generally  admitted,  in  Henry  VIII  and  The  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen,  and  in  the  business  dealings  in  Blackfriars 
already  described.  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  disposed 
of  his  shares  in  the  theaters  before  his  death ;  as  we 
have  seen,  he  appears  frequently  in  his  last  years 
in  connection  with  municipal  affairs  in  Stratford ; 
and  later  formal  references  are  usually  to  "William 
Shakespeare,  gent.,  of  Stratford-on-Avon."  It  was 
during  this  period  that  we  find  record  of  the  poet  serving 
in  a  new  capacity.  There  has  recently  been  dis- 
covered in  the  Household  Book  at  Belvoir  Castle  the 
following  entry  :  "Item  31  Martij  (1613)  to  Mr.  Shak- 
speare  in  gold  about  my  Lordes  Impreso  xiiij  s.  To 
Richard  Burbadge  for  paynting  and  making  yt  in  gold 
xliiij  s.  (Total)  iiij  u  viij  s."  This  means  that  the 
Earl  of  Rutland,  who  took  part  in  a  tournament  at 
Whitehall  on  March  24,  1613,  had  the  heraldic  device 
for  his  shield  made  by  Shakespeare  and  Burbage, — 
Burbage,  whose  skill  as  painter  is  well  known,  being 
probably  responsible  for  the  design  and  Shakespeare 
for  the  motto.  Rutland  was  a  friend  and  associate 
of  that  Earl  of  Southampton  to  whom  Shakespeare  had 
dedicated  his  two  narrative  poems. 

The  remaining  documents  are  chiefly  domestic. 
On  June  5,  1607,  his  elder  daughter  Susanna  married 
John  Hall,  a  physician  of  Stratford,  who  succeeded 


HOeatlj  anO  Burial  35 

the  poet  in  the  occupancy  of  New  Place ;  and  on  Septem- 
ber 9,  1608,  the  Stratford  Register  records  the  burial  of 
his  mother,  "  Mayry  Shaxspere,  wydowe."  His  younger 
daughter,  Judith,  married  Thomas  Quiney  on  February 
10,  1616,  with  such  haste  and  informality  as  led  to 
the  imposition  of  a  fine  by  the  ecclesiastical  court  at 
Worcester.  In  the  previous  month  Shakespeare  had  a 
draft  of  his  will  drawn  up  by  Francis  Collins,  a  solicitor 
of  Warwick,  and  after  certain  changes  this  was  signed 
in  March.  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  April  the  Registers 
show  the  burial  of  "Will.  Shakespeare  gent."  The 
monument  over  his  grave  gives  the  day  of  his  death  as 
April  23  (Old  Style).  He  was  buried  in  the  chancel 
of  Stratford  Church,  and  on  the  grave  may  still  be 
read  the  much  discussed  lines  : 

Good  friend,  for  Jesus'  sake  forbeare 
To  dig  the  dust  enclosed  heare ; 
Bleste  be  the  man  that  spares  these  stones, 
And  curst  be  he  that  moves  my  bones. 

William  Hall,  who  visited  Stratford  in  1694,  records 
the  tradition  that  the  poet  himself  composed  the 
lines  in  a  style  calculated  to  impress  sextons  and  prevent 
them  from  digging  up  his  bones  and  throwing  them 
into  the  adjacent  charnel  house.  However  this  may 
be,  the  grave  has  remained  unopened. 

Seven  years  later,  thirty-six  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
were  collected  by  two  of  his  former  colleagues  of  the 
theater,  Heming  and  Condell,  whom  he  had  remembered 


36         W^z  jFacts  about  £>t>afces;peare 

in  his  will,  and  published  in  the  famous  First  Folio. 
The  preliminary  documents  in  this  volume,  printed  in 
our  appendix,  close  significantly  the  contemporary 
records  of  the  man,  and  bind  together  the  burgess  of 
Stratford  with  the  actor  of  London  and  the  dramatist  of 
the  world. 

Of  Shakespeare's  handwriting  nothing  that  can  be 
called  his  with  complete  assurance  has  survived  ex- 
cept six  signatures ;  one  to  the  deposition  in  the  matter 
of  the  Mountjoy  marriage ;  one  to  the  deed  of  the  house 
he  bought  in  Blackfriars  in  1613,  one  to  the  mortgage- 
deed  on  the  same  house,  executed  on  the  day  after  the 
purchase,  and  one  on  each  of  the  three  sheets  of  paper 
containing  his  will,  the  last  of  which  has  in  addition  the 
words  "By  me."  All  six  are  somewhat  crabbed  speci- 
mens of  the  old  English  style  of  handwriting,  which  is 
the  character  he  would  naturally  acquire  in  such  a  school 
as  that  at  Stratford  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  we 
learn  from  surviving  examples  of  the  copy-books  of  the 
period.  The  manuscripts  of  his  plays  have  gone  the 
way  of  all,  or  almost  all,  the  autographs  of  the  men 
of  letters  of  his  time,  nor  is  it  likely  that  future  research 
will  add  materially  to  what  we  have.  The  exact  signa- 
tures, though  it  is  difficult  to  be  certain  of  all  the  letters, 
seem  to  show  a  variation  in  spelling  —  Shakspere,  Shake- 
spere,  or  Shakspeare.  His  father's  name  appears  in 
the  records  of  the  town  in  sixteen  different  forms,  an 
illustration  of  the  inconsistency  in  the  orthography  of 
proper  names,  as  of  other  words,  which  was  common 


■^^WBP" 

~r:l  ■    J^ 

,   Y* 

&;  s  '•'■>  ■ 

'     *>  C: 

-1  F< 

«>,,  *.  • 

P      ^ 

?''.:-    '     -| 

Signatures  anD  portraits:  37 

with  people  of  that  time  of  greater  worldly  consequence 
and  education  than  the  poet  or  his  father.  The  form 
of  the  name  used  in  the  present  edition  is  that  which 
generally  appears  on  the  title-pages  of  plays  ascribed 
to  him ;  it  is  that  which  he  himself  used  in  signing  the 
dedications  of  his  two  poems  to  the  Earl  of  Southamp- 
ton ;  it  is  that  which  occurs  in  the  legal  documents 
having  to  do  with  his  property ;  and  it  is  the  common 
spelling  in  the  literary  allusions  of  the  seventeenth 
century. 

Our  knowledge  of  Shakespeare's  personal  appear- 
ance is  also  far  from  being  definite.  The  bust  on  the 
monument  in  the  church  at  Stratford  was  cut  appar- 
ently before  1623  by  a  Dutch  stone  cutter  called 
Gerard  Janssen.  It  was  originally  colored ;  probably 
the  eyes  light  hazel,  and  the  hair  auburn.  Its  crude 
workmanship  renders  it  unreliable  as  a  likeness.  The 
frontispiece  to  the  First  Folio  was  engraved  for  that 
work  by  Martin  Droeshout,  who  was  only  twenty-two 
years  old  at  the  time,  so  that  he  is  more  likely  to  have 
made  it  from  a  portrait  than  from  memory.  No  por- 
trait has  been  found  that  seems  actually  to  have  served 
this  purpose,  though  there  are  resemblances  between 
the  engraving  and  the  portrait,  dated  1609,  presented 
to  the  Memorial  Picture  Gallery  at  Stratford  by  Mrs. 
Charles  Flower.  The  numerous  other  portraits  that  have 
been  claimed  as  likenesses  of  the  dramatist  have  varying 
degrees  of  probability,  but  none  has  a  pedigree  without 
a  flaw.     Those  with  most  claim  to  interest  are  the  Ely 


38         Ww  jfacts  about  ^tjakesfpeare 

Palace  portrait,  the  Chandos  portrait,  the  Garrick  Club 
bust,  and  the  Kesselstadt  death-mask.1 

Such  is  the  very  considerable  body  of  authenticated 
facts  about  the  life  of  Shakespeare.  Lacking  though 
they  are  in  intimate  and  personal  touches,  they  can 
hardly  be  said  to  leave  the  main  outlines  of  his  career 
shadowy  or  mysterious.  But  they  do  not  by  any  means 
exhaust  the  data  at  our  disposal  for  forming  an  impres- 
sion of  the  poet's  personality.  A  large  mass  of  tradition, 
of  less  than  legal  validity  but  much  of  it  of  a  high  de- 
gree of  probability,  has  come  down  to  us,  the  sources 
of  which  may  now  be  detailed. 

In  the  seventeenth  century  we  have  several  bio- 
graphical and  critical  collections  in  which  Shakespeare 
figures,  the  most  important  being  these :  Fuller's 
Worthies  of  England  (1662),  Aubrey's  Lives  of  Eminent 
Men  (compiled  1669-1696),  Phillips's  Theatrum  Poeta- 
rum  (1675),  and  Langbaine's  English  Dramatic  Poets 
(1691).  The  two  last  are  for  strictly  biographical  pur- 
poses negligible,  though  interesting  as  early  criticism. 
Fuller  began  his  work  in  1643,  so  that  he  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  had  access  to  oral  tradition  from  men 
who  actually  knew  Shakespeare.  He  gives  few  facts, 
but   some   hints   as   to    temperament.     "Though  his 

1  See  frontispieces  in  the  Tudor  Shakespeare  to  editions  of 
Henry  V  (Droeshout  original),  King  Lear  (Ely  Palace),  Romeo 
and  Juliet  (Chandos),  Pericles  (Garrick  Club  bust),  and  The 
Tempest  (Death-mask).  The  Stratford  Monument  and  the 
Droeahout  engraving  are  reproduced  in  the  present  volume. 


Sources  of  tEraDittons  39 

genius  generally  was  jocular  and  inclining  him  to 
festivity,  yet  he  could,  when  so  disposed,  be  solemn  and 
serious.  .  .  .  Many  were  the  wit-combats  betwixt 
him  and  Ben  Jonson  ;  which  two  I  beheld  like  a  Spanish 
great  galleon  and  an  English  man-of-war;  master 
Jonson  (like  the  former)  was  built  far  higher  in  learning ; 
solid,  but  slow,  in  his  performances.  Shakespeare, 
with  the  English  man-of-war,  lesser  in  bulk,  but  lighter 
in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  tack  about,  and 
take  advantage  of  all  winds,  by  the  quickness  of  his 
wit  and  invention." 

Among  the  actors  who,  with  Shakespeare,  took  part 
in  the  first  production  of  Jonson's  Every  Man  in  His 
Humour  was  Christopher  Beeston,  who  when  he  died 
in  1637  was  manager  of  the  Cockpit  Theater  in  Drury 
Lane.  He  was  succeeded  in  this  office  by  his  son 
William,  who  became  in  his  old  age  the  revered  trans- 
mitter to  Restoration  players  and  playwrights  of  the 
traditions  of  the  great  age  in  which  he  had  spent  his 
youth.  From  him,  and  from  another  actor  of  the  same 
period,  John  Lacy,  as  well  as  from  other  sources,  the 
antiquary  John  Aubrey  collected  fragments  of  gossip  for 
his  lives  of  the  English  poets.  According  to  Aubrey's 
notes,  confused  and  unequal  in  value,  Shakespeare 
"did  act  exceeding  well";  "understood  Latin  pretty 
well,  for  he  had  been  in  his  younger  years  a  school- 
master in  the  country  "  ;  "was  a  handsome,  well-shaped 
man,  very  good  company,  and  of  a  very  ready  and 
pleasant  smooth  wit."     It  is  Aubrey,  too,  that  reports 


40         t&tie  jfacts  about  £>ljatopeare 

that  John  Shakespeare  was  a  butcher,  and  he  adds,  "I 
have  been  told  heretofore  by  some  of  the  neighbours  that 
when  he  was  a  boy  he  exercised  his  father's  trade.  .  .  . 
When  he  killed  a  calf,  he  would  doe  it  in  a  high  style 
and  make  a  speech.  There  was  at  that  time  another 
butcher's  son  in  this  towne,  that  was  held  not  at  all 
inferior  to  him  for  a  naturall  wit,  his  acquaintance,  and 
coetanean,  but  dyed  young."  The  same  writer  is 
authority  for  the  statement  that  it  was  at  Grendon,  near 
Oxford,  on  the  road  from  Stratford  to  London,  that  the 
dramatist  "happened  to  take  the  humour  of  the  con- 
stable in  Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  —  a  remark 
that  may  refer  loosely  either  to  Bottom  and  his  friends, 
or  to  Dogberry  and  Verges.  He  also  ascribes  to  the 
poet  an  apocryphal  epigram  on  a  Stratford  usurer, 
John  Combe. 

The  Rev.  John  Ward,  vicar  of  Stratford-on-Avon  for 
1662  to  1668,  kept  about  the  time  of  his  coming  to 
this  charge  a  diary  in  which  he  relates  certain  echoes 
of  the  conversation  of  the  town  at  a  time  when  the 
poet's  nephews  were  still  living  there.  From  him  we 
hear  that  in  his  elder  days  Shakespeare  retired  to 
Stratford ;  that  in  his  most  active  period  he  wrote  two 
plays  a  year ;  that  he  spent  at  the  rate  of  £1000  a  year ; 
and  that  his  death  was  due  to  a  fever  following  a  "  merry 
meeting"  in  Stratford  with  Jonson  and  Drayton. 

An  additional  reference  to  blie  tradition  of  Shake- 
speare's convivial  tendencies  is  to  be  found  in  the 
legend  of  his  visit  to  Bidford,  six  miles  from  Stratford, 


{EraDitions  41 

with  a  group  of  cronies  to  compare  capacities  with  the 
Bidford  Drinkers.  According  to  the  earliest  version 
of  this  somewhat  widespread  tale,  that  of  a  visitor 
to  Stratford  in  1762,  "he  enquired  of  a  shepherd  for 
the  Bidford  Drinkers,  who  replied  they  were  absent 
but  the  Bidford  sippers  were  at  home,  and,  I  suppose, 
continued  the  sheepkeeper,  they  will  be  sufficient  for 
you  ;  and  so,  indeed,  they  were ;  he  was  forced  to  take 
up  his  lodging  under  that  tree  [the  crab-tree,  long 
pointed  out]  for  some  hours." 

The  earliest  description  of  Shakespeare  as  "a  glover's 
son"  is  found  in  the  memoranda  of  Archdeacon  Plume 
of  Rochester,  written  about  1656.  Plume  adds,  "Sir 
John  Mennes  saw  once  his  old  father  in  his  shop  —  a 
merry  cheeked  old  man  that  said,  '  Will  was  a  good 
honest  fellow,  but  he  darest  have  crackt  a  jeast  with 
him  at  any  time.'"  No  Sir  John  Mennes  who  could 
have  seen  John  Shakespeare  is  known,  but  the  saying 
may  well  be  the  echo  of  contemporary  gossip. 

A  manuscript  preserved  at  Corpus  Christi  College, 
Oxford,  contains  certains  notes  made  before  1688  by  the 
Rev.  William  Fulman.  Among  them  are  interpolated 
others  (given  here  in  italics)  by  the  Rev.  Richard 
Davies  previously  to  1708.  "William  Shakespeare  was 
born  at  Stratford-on-Avon  in  Warwickshire  about 
1563-4.  Much  given  to  all  unluckinesse  in  stealing 
venison  and  rabbits,  particularly  from  Sr.  .  .  .  Lucy,  who 
had  him,  whipt  and  sometimes  imprisoned,  and  at  last 
made  him  fly  his  native  country  to  his  great  advancement; 


43         Qtf)t  jfactsf  about  £>t)afeespeare 

but  his  reveng  was  so  sweet  that  he  is  his  Justice  Clodpate, 
and  calls  him  a  great  man,  and  that  in  allusion  to  his 
name  bore  three  lowses  rampant  for  his  arms.  From  an 
actor  of  playes  he  became  a  composer.  He  dyed  Apr. 
23,  1616,  aetat  53,  probably  at  Stratford,  for  there  he 
is  buried,  and  hath  a  monument  (Dugd.  p.  520),  on 
which  he  lays  a  heavy  curse  upon  any  one  who  shall 
remove  his  bones.  He  dyed  a  papist."  The  inaccuracy 
of  Davies's  version  of  facts  otherwise  known  warns 
us  against  too  great  a  reliance  on  his  individual  contri- 
bution. 

A  certain  John  Dowdall  left  a  short  account  of  places 
he  visited  in  Warwickshire  in  1693.  He  describes  the 
monument  and  tombstone,  giving  inscriptions,  and 
adds,  "The  clarke  that  shew'd  me  this  church  is 
above  80  years  old  ;  he  says  that  this  Shakespeare  was 
formerly  in  this  towne  bound  apprentice  to  a  butcher, 
but  that  he  run  from  his  master  to  London,  and  there 
was  received  into  the  play-house  as  a  serviture,  and  by 
this  means  had  an  opportunity  to  be  what  he  after- 
wards prov'd.  He  was  the  best  of  his  family,  but  the 
male  line  is  extinguished.  Not  one  for  feare  of  the  curse 
abovesaid  dare  touch  his  gravestone,  tho  his  wife  and 
daughters  did  earnestly  desire  to  be  leyd  in  the  same 
grave  with  him."  The  traditional  explanation  of  the 
curse  as  reported  by  William  Hall,  has  already  been 
given  (p.  35). 

The  first  regular  biography  of  Shakespeare  is  that 
by  Nicholas  Rowe,  written  as  a  preface  to  his  edition  of 


fcotoe's  315iograpl)E  43 

the  plays  which,  issued  in  1709,  stands  at  the  beginning 
of  modern  Shakespearean  interpretation.  Though 
compiled  nearly  a  century  after  the  poet's  death, 
Rowe's  life  has  claims  upon  our  credit  more  substantial 
than  might  be  expected.  His  chief  source  of  informa- 
tion was  the  great  actor  Betterton,  a  Shakespeare 
enthusiast,  who  had  himself  taken  pains  to  accumulate 
facts  concerning  his  hero.  Much  of  Betterton's 
material  came  to  him  through  John  Lowin  and  Joseph 
Taylor,  two  actors  who  had  been  colleagues  of  Shake- 
speare's and  who  lived  into  the  Restoration  period. 
According  to  John  Downes,  a  theatrical  prompter  in 
the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  these  veterans 
brought  to  the  new  generation  the  actual  instruction 
they  had  received  from  the  dramatist  himself  on  the 
playing  of  the  parts  respectively  of  Henry  VIH  and 
Hamlet.  Theatrical  and  other  traditions  reached 
Rowe  also  through  Sir  'William  D'Avenant,  the  leading 
figure  in  the  revival  of  the  stage  after  1660.  D'Ave- 
nant's  father  was  host  of  the  Crown  Inn  at  Oxford, 
where,  according  to  the  statements  of  Aubrey  and 
of  Anthony  Wood  in  1692,  Shakespeare  was  accustomed 
to  put  up  on  his  journeys  between  London  and  Strat- 
ford. Wood  reports  that  the  elder  D'Avenant  was  a 
"man  of  grave  and  saturnine  disposition,  yet  an  admirer 
of  plays  and  play-makers,  especially  Shakespeare," 
and  that  Mrs.  D'Avenant  was  "a  very  beautiful 
woman,  of  a  good  wit  and  conversation."  WiUiam 
D'Avenant  was  generally  reputed  to  be  Shakespeare's 


44         3Hje  jfacts  about  ^lafeespeare 

godson,  and  Aubrey,  whose  gossip  must  be  accepted 
with  great  hesitation,  says  that  he  was  not  averse 
to  being  taken  as  his  son.  In  spite  of  the  fact  of  this 
scandal's  appearance  in  various  seventeenth  century 
anecdotes,  the  more  careful  account  of  the  D'Avenants 
by  Wood  points  to  its  rejection.  The  story  is  usually 
linked  with  another  recorded  by  the  lawyer  Manning- 
ham  in  his  Diary,  March  13,  1602,  that  Burbage,  who 
had  been  playing  Richard  III,  was  overheard  by  Shake- 
speare making  an  appointment  with  a  lady  in  the 
audience.  When  the  tragedian  arrived  at  the  rendez- 
vous, he  found  Shakespeare  in  possession ;  and  on 
knocking  was  answered  that  "William  the  Conqueror 
was  before  Richard  the  Third." 

To  return  to  the  D'Avenants,  the  elder  son,  Robert, 
used  to  tell  that  when  he  was  a  child  Shakespeare  had 
given  him  "a  hundred  kisses."  Sir  William  was 
Rowe's  authority  for  the  statement  that  the  Earl  of 
Southampton  once  gave  the  poet  £1000  "to  enable 
him  to  go  through  with  a  purchase  which  he  heard  he 
had  a  mind  to"  ;  but  no  purchase  of  this  magnitude  by 
Shakespeare  is  recorded.  D'Avenant  himself  was  said 
to  own  a  complimentary  letter  written  to  Shakespeare 
by  James  I,  and  the  publisher  Lintot  says  that  the 
Duke  of  Buckinghamshire  claimed  to  have  examined 
the  document.  The  story  about  Shakespeare's  first 
connection  with  the  theater  consisting  in  his  holding 
horses  outside,  told  first  in  a  manuscript  note  preserved 
in  the  Library  of  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  1748, 


ifurt^er  tKraDitionsf  45 

is  also  credited  to  D'Avenant.  According  to  this 
tradition,  frequently  repeated,  the  future  dramatist 
organized  a  regular  corps  of  boys  and  monopolized 
the  business,  so  that  "as  long  as  the  practice  of  riding 
to  the  play-house  continued  the  waiters  that  held  the 
horses  retained  the  appellation  of  Shakespeare's  Boys." 

Many  of  the  natural  inferences  to  be  drawn  from  the 
data  in  the  first  part  of  the  chapter  are  given  by  Rowe 
as  facts.  Thus  he  states  positively  that  Shakespeare 
attended  a  free  school,  from  which  he  was  withdrawn 
owing  to  "the  narrowness  of  his  circumstances,  and 
the  want  of  assistance  at  home."  He  repeats  the  deer- 
stealing  anecdote,  with  further  detail.  As  to  his 
acting,  Rowe  reports,  "  Tho'  I  have  inquir'd,  I  could 
never  meet  with  any  further  account  of  him  this  way 
than  that  the  top  of  his  performance  was  the  ghost  in 
his  own  Hamlet."  He  corroborates  the  general  con- 
temporary opinion  of  Shakespeare's  fluency  and 
spontaneity  in  composition.  As  to  his  personality, 
he  says,  "Besides  the  advantages  of  his  wit,  he  was 
in  himself  a  good-natur'd  man,  of  great  sweetness  in 
his  manners  and  a  most  agreeable  companion."  Rowe 
credits  Shakespeare  with  having  prevented  his  company 
from  rejecting  one  of  Jonson's  plays  at  a  time  when 
Jonson  was  altogether  unknown,  and  is  inclined  to 
consider  the  latter  ungenerous  in  his  critical  remarks 
on  Shakespeare. 

William  Oldys,  in  his  manuscript  Adversaria,  now  in 
the  British  Museum,  reports  a  few  further  fragments  of 


46         Ww  jFaets  about  £>t)ake0peare 

gossip,  the  chief  of  which  is  that  Shakespeare's  brother 
Gilbert  was  discovered  still  living  about  1660  and  was 
questioned  by  some  actors  as  to  his  memory  of  William. 
All  he  could  give  them  was  a  vague  recollection  of  his 
having  played  the  part  of  Adam  in  As  You  Like  It. 

Such  are  the  most  significant  details  which  tradition, 
unauthenticated  but  often  plausible,  has  added  to 
our  knowledge  of  the  documents.  There  exists  also 
a  very  considerable  amount  of  literary  allusion  to 
Shakespeare's  productions  from  1594  onwards,  which 
is  easily  accessible  in  collected  form.  The  most 
notable  of  these  are  the  comments  of  his  friend  and  con- 
temporary, Ben  Jonson.  Besides  the  splendid  eulogy 
prefixed  to  the  First  Folio,  Jonson  talked  of  Shakes- 
peare's lack  of  art  to  Drummond  of  Hawthornden, 
and  expressed  himself  with  affection  and  discrimination 
in  the  famous  passage  in  Timber. 

After  all  allowances  have  been  made  for  the  in- 
accuracies of  oral  tradition,  we  may  safely  gather  from 
those  concerning  Shakespeare  some  inferences  which 
help  to  clothe  the  naked  skeleton  of  the  documented 
facts.  It  is  clear  that,  within  a  generation  after 
Shakespeare's  death,  common  opinion  both  in  Stratford 
and  London  recognized  that  in  the  actor  and  dramatist 
a  great  man  had  passed  away,  that  he  had  been  in  a 
worldly  sense  highly  successful,  though  starting  from 
unpropitious  beginnings,  that  he  wrote  with  great 
swiftness  and  ease,  and  that  in  his  personal  relations 
he  was  gentle,  kindly,  genial,  and  witty.     That  the 


(Etjiomce  of  ttje  bonnets;  47 

bailiff's  son  who  returned  to  his  native  town  as  a  pros- 
perous gentleman,  is  to  be  identified  with  the  actor  and 
shareholder  of  the  London  theaters,  and  with  the 
author  of  the  plays  and  poems,  it  is  difficult  to  see 
how  there  can  remain  any  reasonable  doubt ;  and, 
though  the  facts  which  prove  this  identity  contain  little 
to  illuminate  the  vast  intellect  and  soaring  imagination 
which  created  Hamlet  and  Lear,  they  contain  nothing 
irreconcilable  with  the  personality ;which  these  creations 
imply  rather  than  reveal. 

One  further  source  of  information  about  Shake- 
speare's personality  has  figured  largely  in  some  biog- 
raphies. The  Sonnets  were  published  in  1609,  evi- 
dently without  Shakespeare's  cooperation  or  consent, 
with  a  dedication  by  the  publisher,  Thomas  Thorpe,  to 
a  Mr.  W.  H.,  "  the  onlie  begetter  of  these  insuing 
sonnets."  All  attempts  to  identify  this  Mr.  W.  H. 
have  failed.  He  may  have  been  merely  the  person  who 
procured  the  manuscript  for  Thorpe,  though  the 
language  of  the  dedication  seems  to  imply  that  he  was 
the  young  gentleman  who  is  the  subject  of  a  consider- 
able number  of  the  poems.  Of  this  young  gentleman 
and  of  a  dark  lady  who  seems  to  have  been  the  occasion 
of  other  of  the  sonnets,  much  has  been  written,  but  no 
facts  of  Shakespeare's  life  have  been  established  beyond 
those  which  are  obvious  to  every  reader  :  that  Shake- 
speare wrote  admiring  and  flattering  sonnets  to  a  young 
man  who  is  urged  to  marry  (and  who  may  have  been 
the  Earl  of  Southampton,  or  an  unknown  Mr.  W.  H., 


48         Wfyz  ifactsf  about  ^Ijafeesfpeare 

or  another);  and  that  he  treats  of  an' intrigue  with 
some  unknown  woman.  The  identification  of  the 
young  man  of  the  first  seventeen  sonnets  with  other 
friends  who  are  praised  in  later  sonnets  is  not  certain, 
though  in  some  cases  probable ;  and  much  research  and 
conjecture  have  entirely  failed  to  make  clear  the  rela- 
tions between  the  poet,  the  rival  poet,  the  lady,  and  the 
friend.  The  Sonnets  furnish  us  with  no  knowledge  of 
Shakespeare's  personal  affairs,  and  only  a  meager  basis 
even  for  gossip  as  to  some  of  his  experiences  with  men 
and  women. 

Another  kind  of  inquiry  has  sought  to  discover  in 
the  sonnets  not  facts  or  incidents  of  Shakespeare's  life, 
but  indications  of  his  emotional  experiences.  The  re- 
sults of  such  inquiry  are  manifestly  outside  the  scope 
of  this  chapter.  For  their  discussion,  the  reader  must 
be  referred  to  Professor  Alden's  introduction  to  the 
Tudor  edition  of  the  Sonnets.  Shakespeare's  personal- 
ity as  it  is  reflected  from  his  works  will  also  be  con- 
sidered in  the  concluding  chapter  of  this  volume.  So 
much  stress,  however,  has  been  placed  on  interpreta- 
tions of  the  sonnets,  and  these  have  so  often  occupied 
an  exaggerated  place  in  his  biography,  that  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  remark  that  whether  these  lyrical  poems 
are  genuine  and  personal  or  are  conventional  and  literary, 
and  whether  they  make  the  poet  more  clearly  dis- 
cernible or  not,  they  must  certainly  be  taken  not  alone 
by  themselves,  but  in  connection  with  the  dramas  as 
affording  us  an  impression  of  the  man  who  wrote  them. 


Cfcioence  of  tfce  bonnets  49 

Of  the  sonnets,  it  may  be  said  in  almost  the  same 
words  just  now  used  of  the  documents  and  traditions, 
that  whether  they  contain  much  or  little  to  illuminate 
the  vast  intellect  and  soaring  imagination  which  created 
Hamlet  and  Lear,  they  contain  nothing  irreconcilable 
with  the  personality  which  these  creations  imply  rather 
than  reveal. 


CHAPTER  in 

Shakespeahe's  Reading 

We  have  called  the  present  chapter  "Shakespeare's 
Reading"  rather  than  "The  Learning  of  Shakespeare," 
because,  apart  from  the  famous  line  in  which  Ben 
Jonson  stated  that  the  poet  had  "small  Latin  and  less 
Greek,"  it  is  evident  from  the  allusions  throughout 
the  plays  that  Shakespeare  was  a  reader  rather  than 
a  scholar.  In  other  words,  he  used  books  for  what 
interested  him ;  he  did  not  study  them  for  complete 
mastery ;  and  many  and  varied  as  are  the  traces  of  his 
literary  interests,  they  have  the  air  of  being  detached 
fragments  that  have  stuck  in  a  plastic  and  retentive 
mind,  not  pieces  of  systematic  erudition.  It  is  true 
that  many  books  have  been  written  to  show  that 
Shakespeare  had  the  knowledge  of  a  professional  in 
law,  medicine,  navigation,  theology,  conveyancing, 
hunting  and  hawking,  horsemanship,  politics,  and 
other  fields ;  but  such  works  are  usually  the  products 
of  enthusiasts  in  single  subjects,  who  are  apt  to  forget 
how  much  a  man  of  acute  mind  and  keen  observation 
can  pick  up  of  a  technical  matter  that  interests  him 
for  the  time,  and  how  intelligently  he  can  use  it.  The 
cross-examination  of  an  expert  witness  by  an  able 
lawyer  is  an  everyday  illustration ;  and  in  the  litera- 
50 


ture  of  our  own  day  this  kind  of  versatility  is  strikingly 
exemplified  in  the  work  of  such  a  writer  as  Mr.  Kipling. 

How  Shakespeare  learned  to  read  and  write  his  own 
tongue  we  do  not  know ;  that  he  did  learn  hardly  needs 
to  be  argued.  The  free  grammar  school  at  Stratford- 
on-Avon,  like  other  schools  of  its  type,  was  named  from 
its  function  of  teaching  Latin  grammar ;  and  we  may 
make  what  is  known  of  the  curricula  of  such  schools 
in  the  sixteenth  century  the  basis  for  our  inferences  as 
to  what  Shakespeare  learned  there. 

The  accidence,  with  which  the  course  began,  was 
studied  in  Lily's  Grammar,  and  clear  echoes  of  this 
well-known  work  are  heard  in  the  conversation  between 
Sir  Hugh  Evans  and  William  Page  in  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  IV.  i,  in  1  Henry  IV,  H.  i.  104,  in  Much  Ado, 

IV.  i.  22,  in  Love's  Labours  Lost,  IV.  ii.  82  (and  perhaps, 

V.  i.  10  and  84),  in  Twelfth  Night,  II.  iii.  2,  in  The  Taming 
of  the  Shrew,  I.  i.  167,  —  a  line  of  Terence  altered  by 
Lily,  —  and  in  Titus  Andronicus,  IV.  ii.  20-23,  where 
Demetrius  reads  two  fines  from  Horace,  and  Chiron  says, 

O,  'tis  a  verse  in  Horace ;  I  know  it  well. 
I  read  it  in  the  grammar  long  ago. 

Such  fragments  of  Latin  as  we  find  in  the  dialogue 
between  Holofernes  and  Nathaniel  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  IV.  ii,  and  V.  i,  are  probably  due  to  some  elemen- 
tary phrase-book  no  longer  to  be  identified.  It  is  to 
be  noted  how  prominently  this  early  comedy  figures 
in  the  list  of  evidences  of  his  school-day  memories. 


52         t&tje  jfacts  about  grtjatepeare 

Among  the  first  pieces  of  connected  Latin  prose 
read  in  the  Elizabethan  schools  was  Msop's  Fables,  a 
collection  which,  after  centuries  of  rewriting  and  re- 
compiling for  adults,  had  come  in  the  sixteenth  century 
to  be  regarded  chiefly  as  a  school-book,  but  allusions 
to  which  are  everywhere  to  be  found  in  the  literature 
of  the  day.     In  2  Henry  VI,  III.  i.  343,  and  Richard 

II,  III.  ii.  129,  we  find  references  to  the  fable  of 
"The   Countryman  and   a   Snake";  in  2  Henry  VI, 

III.  i.  69,  and  Timon  of  Athens,  II.  i.  28,  to  "The  Crow 
in  Borrowed  Feathers  "  ;  in  2  Henry  VI,  III.  i.  77,  to 
"  The  Wolf  in  the  Sheep's  Skin  " ;  in  King  John,  II.  i. 
139,  to  "  The  Ass  in  the  Lion's  Skin  " ;  in  Henry  V,  IV. 
iii.  91,  to  "The  Hunter  and  the  Bear";  in  As  You 
Like  It,  I.  i.  87,  to  "  The  Dog  that  Lost  his  Teeth  " ; 
in  AWs  Well,  II.  i.  71,  to  "  The  Fox  and  the  Grapes  " ; 
besides  a  number  of  slighter  and  less  definite  allusions. 
The  most  detailed  fable  in  Shakespeare,  that  of  "  The 
Belly  and  the  Members,"  in  Coriolanus,  I.  i.  99,  is  de- 
rived, not  from  Msop,  but  from  Plutarch's  Life  of 
Coriolanus. 

The  traces  of  the  well-known  collection  of  sayings 
from  various  writers  called  Sententice  Pueriles,  and 
of  the  so-called  Distichs  of  Cato,  both  of  which  were 
commonly  read  in  the  second  and  third  years,  are  only 
slight.  Battista  Spagnuoli  Mantuanus,  whose  Eclogues, 
written  about  1500,  had  become  a  text-book,  is  honored 
with  explicit  mention  as  well  as  quotation  in  Love's 
Labour's  Lost,  IV.  ii.  95.     Cicero,  who  was  read  from 


<$tltD  53 

the  fourthyear,  has  left  his  mark  on  only  a  phrase  or 
two,  in  spite  of  his  importance  in  Renaissance  culture ; 
but  Ovid  is  much  more  important.  The  motto  on 
the  title-page  of  Venus  and  Adonis  is  from  the  Amoves, 
and  the  matter  of  the  poem  is  from  Metamorphoses,  X. 
519  ff.,  with  features  from  the  stories  of  Hermaphroditus 
and  Salmacis  (Mcta.  IV.  285  ff.),  and  the  hunting  in 
Calydon  (Meta.  VLSI.  270  ff.).  Ovid  is  quoted  in  Latin 
in  three  early  plays ;  and  even  where  a  translation 
was  available,  the  phrasing  of  Shakespeare's  allusions 
sometimes  shows  knowledge  of  the  original.  Most  of 
Ovid  had  been  translated  into  English  before  Shake- 
speare began  to  write,  and  Golding's  version  of  the 
Metamorphoses  (1567)  was  used  for  the  references  to 
the  Actseon   myth   in   A   Midsummer- Night' s   Dream, 

IV.  i.  107  ff.,  and  for  a  famous  passage  in  The  Tempest, 

V.  i.  33.  Livy,  who  had  been  translated  in  1545 
according  to  Malone,  seems  to  have  been  the  chief 
source  of  Lucrece,  with  some  aid  from  Ovid's  Fasti,  II. 
721  ff.  Among  other  0 vidian  allusions  are  those  to 
the  story  of  Philomela,  so  pervasive  in  Titus  Androni- 
cus;  to  the  Medea  myth  in  four  or  five  passages;  to 
Narcissus  and  Echo,  Phaeton,  Niobe,  Hercules,  and  a 
score  more  of  the  familiar  names  of  classical  mythology. 
Pyramus  and  Thisbe  Shakespeare  may  have  read  about 
in  Chaucer  as  well  as  in  Ovid,  but  Bottom's  treatment 
of  this  story  in  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  gives  but 
a  slight  basis  for  proving  literary  relations. 

Virgil  followed  Ovid  in  the  fifth  year,  and  with  Virgil, 


54         tE^e  jfacts  about  £>ljatepeare 

Terence.  Of  direct  knowledge  of  the  latter  the  plays 
bear  no  trace,  but  of  the  former  there  seems  to  be  an 
influence  in  the  description  of  the  painting  of  Troy  in 
Lucrece,  1366  ff.,  and  in  two  short  Latin  sentences  in 
2  Henry  VI,  II.  i.  24,  and  IV.  i.  117.  Horace,  Plautus, 
Juvenal,  Persius,  and  Seneca  were  the  new  authors 
taken  up  in  the  last  years  in  school.  All  the  Horace  in 
the  plays  may  have  been  taken  from  other  works,  like 
the  passage  already  quoted  from  Lily's  Grammar. 
Juvenal  and  Persius  have  left  no  mark.  The  Mencechmi 
and  Amphitruo  of  Plautus  furnish  the  basis  for  The 
Comedy  of  Errors,  and  no  English  translation  of  either 
of  these  is  known  before  that  of  the  Mencechmi  in 
1595,  which  some  critics  think  Shakespeare  may  have 
seen  in  manuscript.  But  no  verbal  similarities  confirm 
this  conjecture,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  the  dramatist 
should  not  have  known  both  plays  at  first  hand. 

The  influence  of  Seneca  is  dramatically  the  most  im- 
portant among  the  classical  authors.  All  the  plays 
that  go  by  his  name  had  been  translated  into  English 
in  the  first  part  of  Elizabeth's  reign ;  he  was  the  main 
channel  through  which  the  forms  of  classical  tragedy 
reached  the  Renaissance ;  and  when  Shakespeare  began 
to  write  he  was  the  dominant  force  in  the  field  of 
tragedy.  This  makes  it  hard  to  say  whether  the 
Senecan  features  in  Titus  Andronicus,  Richard  III, 
and  even  Hamlet,  are  due  to  Seneca  directly,  or  to  the 
tradition  already  well  established  among  Shakespeare's 
earlier  contemporaries. 


Kesfultflf  of  £>rt)ooling  55 

The  impression  which  the  evidence  from  the  text- 
books as  a  whole  leaves  on  one  is  that  Shakespeare 
took  from  school  enough  Latin  to  handle  an  occasional 
quotation 1  and  to  extract  the  plot  of  a  play,  but  that 
he  probably  preferred  to  use  a  translation  when  one 
was  to  be  had.  The  slight  acquaintance  shown  with 
authors  not  always  read  at  school,  Caesar,  Livy,  Lucan, 
and  Pliny,  does  not  materially  alter  this  impression. 
Much  more  conclusive  as  to  the  effect  of  his  Latin 
training  than  the  literary  allusions  are  the  numerous 
words  of  Latin  origin  either  coined  by  Shakespeare,  or 
used  in  such  a  way  as  to  imply  a  knowledge  of  their 
derivation.  The  discovery  of  a  lost  translation  may 
modify  our  views  as  to  whether  a  particular  author 
was  used  by  him  in  the  original,  but  the  evidence  from 
his  use  of  Romance  words  gives  clear  proof  that  his 
schooling  was  no  unimportant  element  in  his  mastery 
of  speech. 

Greek  was  occasionally  begun  in  the  Elizabethan 
grammar  school,  but  we  do  not  know  whether  this 
was  the  case  in  Stratford.  Certainly  we  have  no 
reason  to  believe  that  Shakespeare  could  read  Greek, 
as  all  his  knowledge  of  Greek  authors  could  have  been 
obtained  from  translations,  and  only  two  Greek  words, 
misanthropos  and  threnos,  occur  in  his  writings.  Yet 
no  single  author  was  so  important  in  providing  material 
for  the  plays  as  the  Greek  Plutarch.  His  Lives  of 
Julius  Ccesar,  Marcus  Brutus,  Marcus  Antonius,  and 

1  See  the  list  in  the  appendix  to  Schmidt's  Lexicon. 


56         tE^e  jFacts  about  £>t)atepeare 

Caius  Martins  Coriolanus,  in  Sir  Thomas  North's 
translation,  are  the  direct  sources  of  the  great  Roman 
tragedies,  and  in  a  less  important  way  the  Lives  of 
Antonius  and  Alcibiades  were  used  in  Timon  of  Athens. 
Homeric  elements  are  discoverable  in  Troilus  and 
Cressida,  which  derives  mainly  from  the  medieval 
tradition.  As  the  Trojan  story  was  already  familiar 
on  the  stage,  these  need  not  have  come  from  Chap- 
man's Homer.  The  knowledge  of  Lucian  which  seems 
implied  in  Timon  was  probably  not  gained  from  the 
Greek  original.  The  late  Greek  romances,  which 
were  popular  in  translation,  may  have  been  read  by 
Shakespeare,  since  the  reference  to  the  "Egyptian 
thief"  in  Twelfth  Night,  V.  i.  120,  is  from  the  Mhiopica 
of  Heliodorus,  translated  in  1569.  Attempts  have  been 
made  by  the  assembling  of  parallel  passages  to  prove  a 
knowledge  of  Greek  tragedy  on  the  part  of  Shakespeare, 
but  such  parallelisms  are  more  naturally  explained  as 
coincidences  arising  from  the  treatment  of  analogous 
themes  and  situations. 

Of  modern  languages,  French  was  the  easiest  for 
an  Elizabethan  Englishman  to  acquire,  and  the  French 
passages  and  scenes  in  Henry  V  make  it  fairly  certain 
that  Shakespeare  had  a  working  knowledge  of  this 
tongue.  Yet,  as  in  the  case  of  Latin,  he  seems  to 
have  preferred  a  translation  to  an  original  when  he 
could  find  it.  Montaigne,  whose  influence  some  have 
found  pervasive  in  Shakespeare,  he  certainly  used  in 
Gonzalo's  account  of  his  ideal  commonwealth  in  The 


jFrencb  ana  Italian  57 

Tempest,  II.  i.  143  ff.,  but  it  seems  that  he  employed 
Florio's  translation  here.  Rabelais's  Gargantua  is 
explicitly  mentioned  in  As  You  Like  It,  III,  ii.  238, 
and  the  great  humorist  is  possibly  the  inspirer  of 
some  of  Sir  Andrew's  nonsense  in  Twelfth  Night,  II.  iii. 
23.  Many  of  the  Sonnets  contain  reminiscences  of 
the  French  sonneteers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
it  is  thought  that  in  some  cases  Shakespeare  shows 
direct  acquaintance  with  Ronsard.  He  was  thus  ac- 
quainted with  the  three  greatest  French  writers  of 
his  century,  and  French  may  well  have  been  the 
medium  through  which  he  reached  authors  in  other 
languages. 

The  class  of  Italian  literature  with  which  Shake- 
speare shows  most  acquaintance  is  that  of  the  novelle, 
though  there  is  no  proof  that  he  could  read  the  lan- 
guage. The  Decameron  of  Boccaccio  contains  the  love- 
story  of  Cymbeline,  though  there  may  have  been  an 
intermediary ;  the  plot  of  All's  Well  came  from  the 
same  collection,  but  had  been  translated  by  Painter  in 
his  Palace  of  Pleasure;  and  the  story  of  the  caskets 
in  The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  found  in  a  form  closer  to 
Shakespeare's  in  the  English  translation  of  the  Gesta 
Romanorum  than  in  the  Decameron.  Thus  we  cannot 
conclude  that  the  poet  knew  this  work  as  a  whole. 
Similarly  with  Bandello  and  Cinthio.  The  plot  of 
Much  Ado  is  found  in  the  former,  and  is  translated  by 
Belleforest  into  French,  but  at  least  one  detail  seems 
to  come  from  Ariosto,  and  here  again  an  intermediary 


58         tB^e  ifactsf  about  £>Ijatepeai;e 

is  commonly  conjectured.  The  novel  from  Cinthio's 
Hecatommithi  which  formed  the  basis  of  Othello  existed 
in  a  French  translation ;  and  his  form  of  the  plot  of 
Measure  for  Measure  came  to  Shakespeare  through  the 
English  dramatic  version  of  George  Whetstone.  The 
version  of  the  bond  story  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice 
closest  to  the  play  is  in  II  Pecorone  of  Sir  Giovanni 
Fiorentino,  but  the  tale  is  widespread.  Incidents  in 
The  Merry  Wives  have  sources  or  parallels  in  the  same 
work,  in  Straparola's  Piacevoli  Notti,  and  in  Bandello, 
but  in  both  cases  English  versions  were  available.  A 
mass  of  Italian  and  French  prototypes  lies  behind  the 
plot  of  Twelfth  Night,  but  most  of  the  details  are  to  be 
found  in  the  English  Apolonius  and  Silla  of  Barnabe 
Riche,  and  there  is  reason  to  conjecture  a  lost  English 
play  on  the  subject.  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  based 
on  an  extant  older  play,  draws  also  on  Gascoigne's 
version  of  Ariosto's  I  Suppositi;  and  the  echoes  of 
Petrarch  in  the  Sonnets  may  well  have  come  through 
French  and  English  imitators.  The  introduction  of 
stock  types  from  the  Italian  drama,  such  as  the  pedant 
and  the  braggart-soldier,  can  be  accounted  for  by  the 
previous  knowledge  of  these  in  England,  and  does  not 
imply  a  first-hand  reading  of  Italian  literature.  The 
negative  position  is  still  stronger  in  the  case  of  Spanish, 
where  the  use  of  episodes  from  George  of  Montemayor's 
Diana  in  The  Two  Gentlemen,  Twelfth  Night,  and  A 
Midsummer- Night's  Dream,  can  be  supposed  to  be  due 
to  the  author's  having  access  to  Yonge's  translation  in 


(Early  Crtgltefc  59 

manuscript,  especially  since  there  is  no  other  trace  of 
Spanish  influence. 

The  conclusion  with  regard  to  Italian  and  Spanish, 
then,  seems  to  be  that  Shakespeare  in  his  search  for 
plots  was  aware  of  the  riches  of  the  novelle,  but  that 
he  found  what  he  wanted  as  a  rule  in  English  or 
French  versions ;  and  that  we  have  no  evidence  of 
his  knowledge  of  anything  but  fiction  from  these 
literatures. 

Turning  now  to  English,  we  find  Shakespeare's 
knowledge  of  books  in  his  own  tongue  beginning  after 
the  Conquest.  The  romances  of  the  Middle  Ages  were 
in  the  Elizabethan  time  rapidly  undergoing  the  process 
of  degradation  that  was  soon  to  end  in  the  chap-books, 
but  the  material  was  still  widely  known.  The  particular 
versions  read  by  the  dramatist  can  rarely  be  determined 
on  account  of  the  slight  nature  of  most  of  the  references, 
but  we  find  allusions  to  the  Arthurian  romances,  to 
Guy  of  Warwick,  Bevis  of  Hampton,  The  Squire  of  Low 
Degree,  Roland  and  Oliver,  and  to  Huon  of  Bordeaux, 
from  which  last  came  the  name  of  Oberon  as  king 
of  the  fairies.  Among  popular  ballads,  those  of 
Robin  Hood  are  frequently  alluded  to;  the  story  of 
King  Cophetua  and  the  Beggar  Maid  appears  in  no  fewer 
than  five  plays;  Hamlet  knew  a  ballad  on  Jephtha's 
daughter,  and  Sir  Toby  one  on  the  chaste  Susanna. 
A  large  number  of  popular  songs  appear  in  fragments ; 
and  rimes  and  spells,  current  jests  and  anecdotes,  com- 
bine with  the  fairy-lore  of  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream, 


60         W(>t  jFacts  about  £>tiatepeare 

Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  The  Merry  Wives  to  assure  us 
that  Shakespeare  was  thoroughly  versed  in  the  litera- 
ture and  traditions  of  the  people. 

His  acquaintance  with  more  formal  letters  begins 
with  Chaucer,  whose  Knighfs  Tale  contributed  some 
details  to  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  and  the  main 
plot  of  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  in  which  Shakespeare  is 
now  usually  supposed  to  have  had  a  hand.  This  story 
had,  however,  been  already  dramatized  by  Richard 
Edwardes.  More  certainly  direct  is  his  knowledge  of 
Chaucer's  Troilus,  which,  with  Caxton's  Recuyell  of 
the  Historyes  of  Troye,  is  the  main  source  of  Troilus 
and  Cressida.  The  references  to  the  leprosy  of  Cressida 
are  due  to  Henryson's  Testament  of  Creseide,  a  Scots 
sequel  to  Chaucer's  poem,  printed  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury editions  of  the  older  poet's  works.  In  the  Legend 
of  Good  Women  he  may  have  found  the  story  of  Pyramus, 
and  a  version  of  the  tragedy  of  Lucrece,  to  supplement 
his  main  sources  in  Livy  and  Ovid  Chaucer's  con- 
temporary Gower  contributed  to  his  stock  the  story  of 
Florent  (Taming  of  the  Shrew,  I.  ii.  69)  from  the  Confessio 
Amantis,  and  from  the  same  collection  a  version  of  the 
tale  of  Apollonius  of  Tyre,  dramatized  by  Shakespeare 
and  another  in  Pericles. 

With  the  non-dramatic  literature  produced  by  Shake- 
speare's contemporaries,  we  naturally  find  most  evidence 
of  his  acquaintance  in  the  case  of  those  books  which 
provided  material  for  his  plays.  Thus  the  otherwise 
obscure  Arthur  Brooke,  whose  poem  Romeus  and  Juliet 


Contemporary  ^literature  61 

is  the  chief  source  of  the  tragedy,  is  much  more  promi- 
nent in  such  an  enumeration  as  the  present  than  he 
probably  was  in  Shakespeare's  view  of  the  literature 
of  the  day.  Painter,  whose  version  of  the  same  story 
in  his  Palace  of  Pleasure  cannot  be  shown  to  have  been 
used  much,  if  at  all,  by  the  dramatist,  seems  neverthe- 
less to  have  been  known  to  him ;  and  we  hardly  need 
evidence  that  Shakespeare  must  have  kept  a  watchful 
eye  on  similar  collections  of  stories,  such  as  Whetstone's, 
Riche's,  and  Pettie's.  Of  the  greater  writers  of  imag- 
inative literature  there  is  none  missing  from  the  list  of 
those  he  knew,  though,  as  has  been  implied,  the  evi- 
dence is  not  always  proportionate  to  the  greatness ; 
and  some  prominent  figures  in  other  fields,  such  as 
Hooker  and  Bacon,  do  not  appear.  Spenser,  who  is 
supposed  to  have  alluded  to  Shakespeare  in  Colin  Clout's 
come  home  again  and,  less  probably,  in  The  Teares  of 
the  Muses,  is  in  turn  alluded  to  in  A  Midsummer-Night's 
Dream,  V.  i.  52 ;  and  his  version  of  the  story  of  Lear  in 
The  Faerie  Queene,  II.  x,  is  believed  to  have  given  Shake- 
speare his  form  of  the  name  Cordelia.  Evidence  is  more 
abundant  in  the  case  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  The  under- 
plot of  King  Lear  is  based  on  the  story  of  the  blind  king 
of  Paphlagonia  in  the  Arcadia,  and  Sidney's  sonnets, 
along  with  those  of  Daniel,  Drayton,  Constable,  Wat- 
son, and  Barnes,  formed  the  main  channel  through  which 
the  French  and  Italian  influences  reached  Shakespeare's. 
However  we  may  estimate  the  original  element  in  his 
sonnets,  and  in  our  opinion  it  is  very  great,  there  is  no 


6a         X&ty  ifacte;  about  £>t)ataspeare 

question  of  the  author's  having  had  a  thorough  familiar- 
ity with  contemporary  sonnetteers. 

Similarly  we  can  be  certain  that  he  had  read  many  of 
the  elaborate  narrative  poems  then  in  vogue,  a  class  to 
which  he  contributed  Venus  and  Adonis,  Lucrece,  and 
A  Lovers  Complaint.  Daniel's  Rosamond  and  Mar- 
lowe's Hero  and  Leander  especially  have  left  many 
traces,  and  Daniel's  Barons'  Wars  is  intimately  related 
to  Richard  II  and  Henry  IV.  The  longer  prose  fictions 
of  the  time  he  also  watched,  and  Lyly's  Ewphues  con- 
tributed the  germ  of  a  number  of  passages,  as  Lodge's 
Rosalynde  and  Greene's  Pandosto  supplied  the  plots  of 
As  You  Like  It  and  The  Winter's  Tale  respectively. 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  his  knowledge 
of  folk  beliefs  about  fairies.  To  this  should  be  added 
other  supernatural  beliefs,  especially  as  to  ghosts,  devils, 
and  witches,  evidence  of  his  familiarity  with  which  will 
occur  to  every  one.  Matters  of  this  sort  were  much  dis- 
cussed in  his  time,  the  frequency  of  ghosts  in  Senecan 
plays  having  made  them  conspicuous  in  Elizabethan 
imitations,  and  religious  controversy  having  stimulated 
interest  in  demon ology.  Several  important  books  ap- 
peared on  the  subject,  and  one  of  these  at  least  Shake- 
speare read,  Harsnett's  Declaration  of  Egregious  Popish 
Impostures,  for  from  it  Edgar,  as  Poor  Tom  in  King 
Lear,  derived  many  of  the  names  and  phrases  which 
occur  in  his  pretended  ravings. 

The  most  useful  book  in  all  his  reading,  if  we  judge 
by  the  amount  of  his  work  that  is  based  on  it,  was 


Contemporary  2Drama  63 

the  second  edition  of  the  Chronicles  of  England,  Scot- 
land, and  Ireland,  compiled  by  Raphael  Holinshed. 
With  it  he  used  the  work  by  Hall  on  The  Union  of  Lan- 
caster and  York,  the  Chronicles  of  Grafton  and  of  Fabyan, 
and  the  Annals  of  John  Stowe.  On  these  were  based  the 
greater  number  of  the  historical  plays,  Macbeth,  and  the 
political  part  of  Cymbeline.  In  the  case  of  Henry  VIII 
there  should  be  added  the  Acts  and  Monuments,  better 
known  as  the  Book  of  Martyrs,  of  John  Foxe. 

To  deal  adequately  with  Shakespeare's  reading  in  the 
plays  of  his  time  would  be  to  write  a  history  of  the 
Elizabethan  drama.  Older  dramatists,  like  Preston, 
Gascoigne,  and  Whetstone,  he  knew,  for  he  quotes 
Cambyses,  and  from  the  two  last  he  derives  material  for 
the  plots  of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  and  Measure  for 
Measure.  Anonymous  writers  supplied  the  older  plays 
on  which  he  based  King  John,  King  Lear,  and  Hamlet, 
parts  of  Henry  V  and  VI,  and  of  Richard  III,  and 
probably  others.  Allusions  prove  a  familiarity  with 
all  of  Marlowe's  dramas;  Hamlet  is  indebted  to  the 
tradition  of  which  Kyd  was  one  of  the  founders ;' Lyly 
taught  him  much  in  the  handling  of  light  comic  dialogue ; 
and  he  quotes  lines  from  Peele.  Greene's  contribution 
is  less  specifically  marked  ;  but  Shakespeare's  profession 
of  acting,  as  well  as  that  of  play-writing,  of  necessity 
made  him  acquainted  with  the  whole  dramatic  produc- 
tion of  the  time.  Thus,  as  has  been  stated  in  a  previous 
chapter,  he  acted  in  several  of  Jonson's  plays,  and  a  good 
case  has  been   made  out   for  his  modelling   his   last 


64         Wfyt  iFact*  about  gtyatepeare 

comedies    on    the   new   successes    of    Beaumont   and 
Fletcher. 

No  Englishman  of  that  day  was  insensible  to  what 
was  going  on  in  exploration  and  conquest  of  the  Western 
World;  and  in  The  Tempest,  Othello,  and  other  plays 
we  have  clear  ground  for  stating  that  Shakespeare 
shared  this  interest,  and  read  books  like  Eden's  History 
of  Travayle  in  the  West  and  East  Indies,  Raleigh's  Dis- 
coverie  of  Guiana,  and  such  pamphlets  as  were  used  in 
the  vast  compilation  of  Richard  Hakluyt.  The  scientific 
knowledge  implied  in  the  plays  reflects  current  beliefs, 
and  must  have  been  derived  from  such  works  as  Pliny, 
Batman  uppon  Bartholome  his  Booke  De  Proprietatibus 
Rerum,  and  from  conversation. 

Finally,  Shakespeare  knew  his  Bible.  Several  vol- 
umes have  been  written  to  exhibit  the  extent  of  this 
knowledge,  and  it  has  been  shown  by  Anders  that  he 
knew  both  the  Genevan  and  the  Great  Bible,  as  well 
as  the  Prayer  Book. 

Taken  all  together,  the  amount  of  literature  indicated 
by  this  summary  account  of  the  evidences  in  the  plays 
and  poems  abundantly  proves  the  statement  that 
Shakespeare,  if  not  a  scholar,  was  a  man  of  wide  and 
varied  reading.  When  it  is  further  considered  that  only 
a  fraction  of  what  any  author  reads  leaves  a  mark 
that  can  be  identified  on  what  he  writes,  we  shall  readily 
allow  that  in  the  matter  of  study  Shakespeare  showed  an 
activity  and  receptivity  of  mind  that  harmonizes  with 
the  impression  received  from  his  creative  work. 


J?ts  KeaDing  Epical  65 

It  agrees  with  our  impressions  of  him  derived  from 
other  sources  also,  that  his  reading  reflects  not  so  much 
idiosyncrasies  of  taste  as  the  prevalent  literary  interests 
of  the  day.  Thus  in  Latin  literature  the  most  con- 
spicuous author  among  general  readers,  as  distinguished 
from  scholars,  was  Ovid,  whose  romantic  narratives 
appealed  to  a  time  which  reveled  in  tales  gathered  from 
all  quarters;  and  this  same  prominence  of  Ovid  has 
been  shown  to  exist  among  the  classical  authors  known  to 
the  dramatist.  Similarly  his  use  of  chronicles  like  that 
of  Holinshed  merely  reflects  a  widespread  interest  in 
national  history ;  and  Shakespeare  shared  the  popular 
interest  in  the  translations  of  novelle  and  the  like  that 
poured  in  from  the  Continent.  The  age  of  Elizabeth 
was  an  age  of  great  expansion  in  reading  —  especially 
in  the  literature  of  entertainment.  For  the  first  time 
since  the  introduction  of  printing  the  people  were  free 
to  indulge  in  books  as  a  recreation,  and  the  enormous 
growth  of  publishing  in  this  era  indicates  the  response 
to  the  new  demand.  In  all  this  Shakespeare  took  part, 
and  the  evidences  appear  in  his  works  so  far  as  the 
nature  of  their  themes  permitted  it.  But  the  drama 
gave  no  opportunity  for  anything  but  passing  allusions 
to  scientific,  philosophical,  and  religious  matters,  so 
that  direct  evidence  is  lacking  as  to  how  far  Shakespeare 
was  acquainted  with  what  was  being  written  in  these 
fields.  On  the  other  hand,  the  profundity  of  his  insight 
into  human  motive  and  behavior,  the  evidences  of  pro- 
longed and  severe  meditation  on  human  life  and  the 

F 


66         1&\)t  ifactsf  about  £>tjatepeare 

ways  of  the  world,  and  the  richness  of  the  philosophical 
generalizations  that  lie  just  below  the  surface  of  his 
greater  plays,  make  it  difficult  to  believe  that  in  these 
fields  also  he  did  not  join  in  the  intellectual  activity  of 
his  day. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Chronology  and  Development 

The  value  of  a  knowledge  of  the  order  in  which  an 
author's  works  were  composed  no  longer  needs  to  be 
argued.  The  development  of  power  and  skill  which 
such  knowledge  reveals  is  an  important  part  of  biog- 
raphy, and  an  individual  work  is  more  surely  inter- 
preted when  we  know  the  period  and  the  circumstances 
of  the  author's  life  in  which  it  was  written,  and  what 
other  works,  by  himself  and  his  fellows,  lie  nearest 
in  point  of  time.  Without  a  knowledge  of  chronol- 
ogy, the  indebtedness  of  contemporary  authors  to  one 
another  and  the  growth  of  literary  forms  cannot  be 
determined. 

The  fact,  so  often  to  be  insisted  upon,  that  at  the 
beginning  of  Shakespeare's  career  stage  plays  were 
hardly  regarded  as  literature  at  all  and  were  not  pub- 
lished by  their  authors,  deprives  us  of  the  evidence 
usually  afforded  by  date  of  publication.  We  are  thus 
forced  to  have  recourse  to  a  variety  of  more  or  less 
casually  recorded  data,  and  to  indications  of  differences 
of  maturity  in  style  and  matter  which  are  often 
much  less  clear  than  could  be  wished.  Before  giving 
the  results  of  the  research  that  has  been  pursued  for 
a  century  and  a  half,  it  will  be  worth  while  to  enumerate 
67 


68         W$t  ifacw  about  £>tjatepeare 

the  most  fruitful  methods  which  have  been  employed, 
and  the  sorts  of  evidence  available. 

Of  purely  external  evidence,  the  chief  kinds  are  these  : 
records  of  the  performance  of  plays  in  letters,  diaries, 
accounts,  and  the  like ;  quotation,  allusion,  imitation, 
or  parody  in  other  works ;  entries  in  the  books  of  the 
Master  of  the  Revels  at  Court,  and  in  the  Register  of 
the  Stationers'  Company;  dates  on  the  title-pages  of 
the  plays  themselves;  facts  and  traditions  about  the 
life  of  the  author ;  dates  in  the  lives  of  actors  and  in 
the  careers  of  companies  known  to  have  performed  the 
plays,  and  in  the  histories  of  theaters  in  which  they 
were  presented.  Instances  of  some  of  these  are  the 
manuscript  which  tells  of  a  performance  of  The  Comedy 
of  Errors  at  Gray's  Inn  in  1594  ;  the  diary  of  the  quack, 
Dr.  Simon  Forman,  who  witnessed  performances  of 
Macbeth,  Cymbeline,  and  The  Winter's  Tale  at  the 
Globe  in  1610  and  1611 ;  the  appreciation  of  Shake- 
speare, with  a  list  of  a  dozen  plays  by  him,  in  the  Pal- 
ladis  Tamia1  of  Francis  Meres,  1598;  and  the  pam- 
phlets on  Somers's  voyage  to  Virginia,  which  offered 
suggestions  for  The  Tempest. 

Partly  external  and  partly  internal  are  the  evidences 
derived  from  allusions  in  the  plays  to  current  events, 
personal  or  political,  such  as  the  reference  in  the 
Prologue  to  Henry  V  to  the  expedition  of  Essex 
to  Ireland  in  1599 ;  references  to  other  books,  like  the 
quotation  from  Marlowe  in  As  You  Like  It,  III.  v.  82 ; 
1  See  Appendix  A,  13. 


IfcmDS  of  (Ebi&mce  69 

references  from  one  play  of  Shakespeare's  to  another, 
like  the  promise  in  the  Epilogue  to  2  Henry  IV  to 
"continue  the  story,  with  Sir  John  in  it,  and  make 
you  merry  with  fair  Katherine  of  France." 

The  purely  internal  evidence  is  seldom  as  specific 
as  the  external,  and  requires  to  be  handled  with  much 
judgment  and  caution.  Most  difficult  in  this  class 
is  the  weighing  of  considerations  of  a  moral  or  esthetic 
nature ;  for,  though  these  are  often  powerful  in  their 
effect  on  the  individual  reader,  they  are  usually  in- 
capable of  proof  to  another  person  with  different 
tastes  and  a  different  point  of  view.  Of  such  tests, 
those  afforded  by  a  study  of  the  methods  used  in  the 
treatment  of  plot  and  in  the  development  of  character 
are  perhaps  the  least  subjective.  Somewhat  more 
palpable  are  the  changing  characteristics  of  style. 
The  number  and  nature  of  classical  allusions  and  Latin 
words  and  quotations ;  the  kind  and  degree  of  elabora- 
tion of  figures  of  speech,  puns,  conceits,  and  the  like 
diff  useness  or  concentration  in  the  expression  of  thought 
artificiality  or  lifelikeness  in  the  treatment  of  dialogue 
the  use  of  prose  or  verse;  the  employment  of  oaths, 
checked  by  statute  shortly  after  the  accession  of 
James  I :  these  are  the  main  aspects  of  style  which 
can  be  used  in  determining,  not  exact  dates,  but  the 
period  of  Shakespeare's  activity  within  which  a  given 
work  falls.  More  capable  of  mechanical  calculation 
than  the  tests  of  either  matter  or  style  are  those  de- 
rived from  changes  in  versification,  though  here  too 


70         1&\)t  ifactsf  about  f^ljafeeapeare 

there  is  often  a  subjective  element  in  the  reckoning. 
The  more  important  metrical  tests  include  the  follow- 
ing:  the  frequency  of  rhyme,  whether  in  the  heroic 
couplet  or,  as  not  uncommonly  occurs  in  early  plays, 
in  alternates  and  even  such  elaborate  arrangements 
as  the  sonnet;  doggerel  lines;  alexandrines,  or  lines 
of  twelve  syllables;  the  presence  of  an  extra  syllable 
before  a  pause  within  the  line ;  short  lines,  especially 
at  the  end  of  speeches;  the  substitution  of  other  feet 
for  the  regular  iambic  movement  of  blank  verse; 
weak  and  light  endings  ;  and,  most  valuable,  the  position 
of  the  pause  in  the  line  ("end-stopped"  or  "run  on"), 
and  feminine  endings  or  hypermetrical  lines,  such  as 

"  These  many  summers  in  a  sea  of  glor-y." 

Many  of  these  variable  features  were  not  consciously 
manipulated  by  the  author ;  and,  even  when  a  general 
drift  in  a  certain  direction  is  clearly  observable  in  his 
practice  with  regard  to  them,  it  is  not  to  be  assumed 
that  his  progress  was  perfectly  regular,  without  leaps 
forward  and  occasional  returns  to  an  earlier  usage. 
It  is  to  be  noted  also  that  the  subject  and  atmosphere 
of  a  particular  play  might  induce  a  metrical  treatment 
of  a  special  kind,  in  which  case  the  verse  tests  would 
yield  evidence  not  primarily  chronological  at  all. 
Nevertheless,  when  all  allowances  have  been  made  and 
all  due  caution  exercised,  it  will  be  found  that  the  in- 
dications of  the  versification  corroborate  and  supple- 
ment the  external  evidences  in  a  valuable  way. 


Metrical  tEcsts 


71 


TABLE  I 


O 
O 

S3 

H-3 

a 

ID 

O 

K 

Ph 

<   « 
B> 

m 

a  W 

MS 

00 
0 

B  «  S 

Z, 
0 

z 

P  m 

Z 
6?J 

as  ta 

5  £  g 
H  0  S 

CO  O  H 

ta 

^* 
0  t>  z 

L.  L.  L.  . 

2789 

1086 

579 

1028 

7.7 

18.4 

10.0 

3 

C.  of  E.  . 

1770 

240 

1150 

380 

16.6 

12.9 

0.6 

0 

T.  G.  V.  . 

2060 

409 

1510 

116 

18.4 

12.4 

5.8 

0 

R.  Ill  .  . 

3599 

55 

3374 

170 

19.5 

13.1 

2.9 

4 

K.  J.  .  . 

2553 

0 

2403 

150 

6.3 

17.7 

12.7 

7 

R.  &  J.   . 

3002 

405 

2111 

486 

8.2 

14.2 

14.9 

7 

M.  N.  D.  . 

2251 

441 

878 

731 

7.3 

13.2 

17.3 

1 

R.  II.  .  . 

2644 

0 

2107 

537 

11.0 

19.9 

7.3 

4 

Merch. 

2705 

673 

1896 

93 

17.6 

21.5 

22.2 

7 

1  Hy.  IV  . 

3170 

1464 

1622 

84 

5.1 

22.8 

14.2 

7 

2  Hy.  IV  . 

3437 

1860 

1417 

74 

16.3 

21.4 

16.8 

1 

M.  W.  W. . 

3018 

2703 

227 

69 

27.2 

20.1 

20.5 

1 

Hy.  V  .  . 

3320 

1531 

1678 

101 

20.5 

21.8 

18.3 

2 

M.  Ado  . 

2823 

2106 

643 

40 

22.9 

19.3 

20.7 

2 

J.  C.  .  . 

2440 

165 

2241 

34 

19.7 

19.3 

20.3 

10 

A.  Y.  L.  I. 

2904 

1681 

925 

71 

25.5 

17.1 

21.6 

2 

T.  N.  .  . 

2684 

1741 

763 

120 

25.6 

14.7 

36.3 

4 

T.  &  C.  . 

3423 

1186 

2025 

196 

23.8 

27.4 

31.3 

6 

A.  W.  W.  . 

2981 

1453 

1234 

280 

29.4 

28.4 

74.0 

13 

Hml.  .  . 

3924 

1208 

2490 

81 

22.6 

23.1 

51.6 

8 

Meas.  .  . 

2809 

1134 

1574 

73 

26.1 

23.0 

51.4 

7 

Oth.   .  . 

3324 

541 

2672 

86 

28.1 

19.5 

41.4 

2 

Lear   .  . 

3298 

903 

2238 

74 

28.5 

29.3 

60.9 

6 

Mcb.  .  . 

1993 

158 

1588 

118 

26.3 

36.6 

77.2 

23 

A.  &  C.  . 

3064 

255 

2761 

42 

26.5 

43.3 

77.5 

99 

Cor.   .  . 

3392 

829 

2521 

42 

28.4 

45.9 

79.0 

104 

Cym.  .  . 

3448 

638 

2505 

107 

30.7 

46.0 

85.0 

130 

W.  T.  .  . 

2750 

844 

1825 

0 

32.9 

37.5 

87.6 

100 

Tmp.  .  . 

2068 

458 

1458 

2 

35.4 

41.5 

84.5 

67 

7*         W$t  5?act0  about  ^afeespeare 


TABLE  II 
Collaborated  Plats 


1  Hy.  VI 

2  Hy.  VI 

3  Hy.  VI 
T.  And. 
T.  of  S. 
T.  of  A. 
Per.  . 
Hy.  VIII 
T.  N.  K. 


h 

IS 

z 

O 

05 

g 

o 

J    CO 

o  S 

a 

(E 

o 

£    00 

•d  « 

M   .•   ft 

S  is  s 
M  «  a 

o 

W    S5 

H  C   ■ 

8  ►  B 

Ml 

H 

J   w 

y  a 

H^ 

h 

«> 

PhPh 

&?>fc 

£?j 

2693 

0 

2379 

314 

8.2 

10.4 

0.5 

3032 

448 

2562 

122 

13.7 

11.4 

1.1 

2904 

0 

2749 

155 

13.7 

9.5 

0.9 

2525 

43 

2338 

144 

8.6 

12.0 

2.5 

2671 

516 

1971 

169 

17.7 

8.1 

3.6 

2358 

596 

1560 

184 

24.7 

32.5 

62.8 

2386 

418 

1436 

225 

20.2 

18.2 

71.0 

2754 

67 

2613 

16 

47.3 

46.3 

72.4 

2734 

179 

2468 

54 

43.7 

^  2 


■*8 


4 
3 
3 
5 

14 
30  (S) 
82  (S) 
84  (S) 


The  accompanying  Tables 1  give  the  detailed  results 
of  investigations  along  these  lines,  and  a  study  of  the 
data  therein  contained  will  reveal  both  their  possi- 
bilities and  their  limitations.  In  Tables  I  and  II  the 
order  of  the  plays  is  approximately  that  of  the  dates  of 
their  composition  (virtually  the  same  as  the  dates  of 
first  performance).  The  second  and  third  columns 
cannot  be  regarded  as  giving  any  clue  to  chronology, 
except  that  they  show  that  in  the  dramas  written 
under  the  influence  of  Marlowe  prose  is  comparatively 

1  The  figures  here  given  are  based  in  columns  1,  2,  3,  and  4 
on  the  calculations  of  Fleay  ;  in  5,  6,  and  7  on  those  of  Konig ; 
and  in  8  on  those  of  Ingram.     (S)  =  Shakespeare's  scenes. 


Metrical  1Kzm  73 

rare.  Elsewhere  Shakespeare  employed  prose  for  a 
variety  of  purposes :  for  low  comedy,  as  in  the  tavern 
scenes  in  Henry  IV,  and  the  scenes  in  which  Sir  Toby 
figures  in  Twelfth  Night;  for  repartee,  as  in  the  wit- 
combats  of  Beatrice  and  Benedick ;  for  purely  intellec- 
tual and  moralizing  speeches,  such  as  Hamlet's  over 
the  skull  of  Yorick.  On  the  other  hand,  highly  emotional 
scenes  are  usually  in  verse,  as  are  romantic  passages 
like  the  conversation  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica  in  the 
moonlight  at  Belmont,  or  the  dialogues  of  Fenton  and 
Anne  Page,  which  contrast  with  the  realistic  prose  of 
the  rest  of  the  Merry  Wives  and  also  the  artificial  pas- 
toralism  of  Silvius  and  Phoebe  in  As  You  Like  It.  Few 
absolute  rules  can  be  laid  down  in  the  matter,  but  study 
of  Shakespeare's  practice  reveals  an  admirable  tact 
in  his  choice  of  medium. 

The  frequency  of  rhyme,  as  shown  in  the  fourth 
column,  has  more  relation  to  date.  While  there  is  no 
very  steady  gradation,  it  is  clear  that  in  his  earlier 
plays  he  used  rhyme  freely,  while  at  the  close  of  his 
career  he  had  practically  abandoned  it.  The  large 
number  of  rhymes  in  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  and 
Romeo  and  Juliet  is  accounted  for  mainly  by  the  pre- 
vailing lyrical  tone  of  a  great  part  of  these  plays,  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  in  All's  Well  it  probably  points 
to  survivals  of  an  earlier  first  form  of  this  comedy. 
It  ought  to  be  noted  that,  in  the  figures  given  here, 
the  rhyming  lines  in  the  play  scene  in  Hamlet,  the 
vision  in  Cymbeline,  the  masque  in  The  Tempest,  and 


74         ?&ty  ifacts?  about  £>ljatopeare 

the  Prologue  and  Epilogue  of  Henry  VIII  are  not 
reckoned. 

More  significant  are  the  percentages  in  columns 
five,  six,  and  seven.  Before  1598,  feminine  endings 
never  reach  twenty  per  cent  of  the  total  number  of 
pentameter  lines ;  after  that  date  they  are  practically 
always  above  that  number,  and  show  a  fairly  steady 
increase  to  the  thirty-five  per  cent  of  The  Tempest. 
The  variations  of  run-on  lines  (which,  of  course,  carry 
with  them  the  frequency  of  pauses  within  the  line, 
and  inversely  the  growing  rarity  of  end-stopped 
lines)  are  closely  parallel  to  those  of  the  feminine 
endings  ;  while  the  increase  in  the  proportion  of  speeches 
ending  within  the  line  is  still  more  striking.  In  The 
Comedy  of  Errors  this  phenomenon  hardly  occurs  at  all ; 
in  The  Tempest  it  happens  in  over  eighty-four  per  cent 
of  the  speeches,  the  increase  being  especially  regular 
after  1598.  Yet  in  some  cases  other  causes  are  opera- 
tive. Thus  cuts  and  revisions  of  plays  were  apt  to 
leave  broken  lines  at  the  ends  of  speeches,  and  the 
comparatively  high  percentages  in  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  All's  Well  are  probably  in 
part  due  to  these  causes. 

The  phenomena  recorded  in  the  last  column  are 
peculiar.  Previous  to  the  date  of  Macbeth  it  appears 
that  Shakespeare  practically  avoided  ending  a  line 
with  fight  or  weak  words  such  as  prepositions,  conjunc- 
tions, and  auxiliary  verbs,  but  that  from  about  1606 
to  the  end  he  employed  them  in  proportions  ranging 


i&ishs  of  Crror  75 

from  3.53  per  cent  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  to  7.14 
per  cent  in  his  part  of  Henry  VIII. 

The  figures  for  plays  not  wholly  written  by  Shake- 
speare are  naturally  less  significant,  and  have  therefore 
been  given  separately ;  yet,  on  the  whole,  they  show 
the  same  general  tendencies  in  the  use  of  meter. 

It  will  be  observed  that  while  the  developments 
suggested  by  the  different  columns  are  fairly  consistent, 
they  do  not  absolutely  agree  in  any  two  cases,  and 
can  obviously  be  used,  as  has  been  said,  only  to  corrob- 
orate other  evidence  in  placing  a  play  in  a  period, 
not  to  fix  a  precise  year.  Further,  in  the  calculations 
involved,  there  are  many  doubtful  cases  calling  for 
the  exercise  of  individual  judgment,  especially  as  to 
what  constitutes  a  run-on  line,  or  a  fight  or  weak 
ending.  Thus  Professor  Bradley  differs  from  Konig 
in  several  cases  as  to  the  figures  given  in  the  seventh 
column,  counting  the  percentage  of  speeches  ending 
within  the  line  as  57  for  Hamlet,  54  for  Othello,  69  for 
King  Lear,  and  75  for  Macbeth.  For  Acts  III,  IV,  and 
V  of  Pericles,  the  71  per  cent  is  Bradley's,  for  which 
Konig's  17.1  is  clearly  a  mistake.  Serious  as  are  such 
discrepancies,  and  suggestive  of  a  need  for  a  general 
re-counting  of  all  the  more  significant  phenomena,  they 
are  not  so  great  as  to  shake  the  faith  of  any  scholar 
who  has  seriously  studied  the  matter  in  the  usefulness 
of  metrical  tests  as  an  aid  in  the  settling  of  the  chro- 
nology. 


76         S^e  ifactsf  about  £>ljakespeare 


TABLE   III 


Periods 

Comedies 

Histories 

Tragedies 

L.  L.  L.  1591 

1  Hy.  VI  1590-1 

C.  of  E.  1591 

2  Hy.  VI  1590-2 

I 

T. G.  of  V.  1591-2 

3  Hy.  VI  1590-2 
R.  Ill        1593 

K.  J.          1593 

T.  And.  1593-4 

M.  N.  D.  1594-5 
M.  of  V.  1595-6 

R.  II         1595 

R.  and  J.  1594-5 

T.  of  S.  1596-7 

1  Hy.  IV  1597 

II 

M.  W.  of  W.  1598 

2  Hy.  IV  1598 

M.  Ado  1599 

Hy.  V       1599 

J.  Cjbs.  1599 

A.  Y.  L.  I.  1599-1600 

Tw.  N.  1601 

T.  &  C.  1601-2 

A.  Well  1602 

Meas.  1603 

Ham.  1602.  1603 
Oth.  1604 
Lear  1605-6 

III 

Macb.  1606 
T.  of  Ath.  1607 

Per.  1607-8 

A.  &  CI.  1607-8 
Cor.  1609 

Cymb.  1610 

W.  Tale  1611 

IV 

Temp.     1611 

T.  N.  K.  1612-13 

Hy.  VIII  1612 

Table  III  gives  a  summary  of  the  results  of  all  the 
kinds  of  evidence  available  as  recorded  in  the  introduc- 
tion to  individual  plays  in  the  Tudor  Shakespeare.    The 


iftreft  IfOertoD  77 

classification  into  Comedies,  Histories,  and  Tragedies 
draws  attention  at  once  to  the  changes  in  the  type 
of  drama  on  which  Shakespeare  concentrated  his 
main  attention,  and  suggests  the  usual  division  of 
his  activity  into  four  periods.  In  the  first  of  these, 
extending  from  the  beginning  of  his  writing  (perhaps 
earlier  than  1590)  to  the  end  of  1593,  he  attempted 
practically  all  the  forms  of  drama  then  in  vogue. 
Plays  which  were  given  him  to  revise,  or  in  which  he 
was  invited  to  collaborate,  may  naturally  be  supposed 
to  have  preceded  independent  efforts,  and  his  still 
undetermined  share  in  Henry  VI  is  usually  regarded 
as  his  earliest  dramatic  production.  What  he  learned 
in  this  field  of  tragic  history  from  his  more  experi- 
enced fellows  may  be  seen  in  Richard  III,  in  which 
he  can  be  observed  following  in  the  footsteps  of  Marlowe 
in  the  treatment  of  meter,  in  the  rhetorical  and  lyrical 
nature  of  the  dialogue,  and  in  the  conception  of  the 
central  character.  Even  less  of  his  individual  quality 
is  to  be  discerned  in  the  field  of  tragedy,  for  the  most 
that  can  be  claimed  for  him  in  Titus  Andronicus  is 
the  re-combination  of  the  repellent  episodes  of  that 
crude  specimen  of  the  tragedy  of  blood,  and  the  re- 
writing of  the  lines  which  occasionally  cloak  the  horrors 
with  passages  of  poetry.  If,  as  is  unlikely,  the  first 
form  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  was  written  in  this  period, 
the  extant  form  must  show  it  so  radically  revised  that 
it  leaves  us  little  ground  for  generalization  as  to  his 
power  in  tragedy  in  this  first  period. 


78         tElje  ifactsf  about  £>tyakespeare 

It  was  in  comedy  that  Shakespeare  first  showed 
originality.  Loves  Labour 's  Lost  is  one  of  the  few  plays 
whose  plots  seem  to  have  been  due  to  his  own  inven- 
tion ;  and  full  of  sparkle  and  grace  as  it  is,  it  bears 
obvious  marks  of  the  tour  deforce,  the  young  writer's 
conscious  testing  of  his  powers  in  social  satire,  in  comic 
situation,  and  most  of  all  in  verbal  mastery  and  the 
manipulation  of  dialogue.  In  The  Comedy  of  Errors 
he  had  the  advantage  of  a  definite  model  in  the  well- 
defined  type  of  the  Plautian  comedy ;  but  here  again 
in  the  doubling  of  the  twins  and  the  elaboration  of 
the  entanglements  there  are  traces  of  the  beginner's 
delight  in  teclmic  for  its  own  sake.  The  clearly  con- 
trasted types  in  the  two  pairs  of  heroes  and  heroines 
of  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  point  to  a  conscious 
effort  in  characterization,  as  the  author's  attention 
had  been  concentrated  on  dialogue  and  on  situation 
in  the  other  two  comedies  of  this  group.  Thus,  re- 
garding the  variety  of  kind  and  the  nature  of  his 
achievement  in  these  first  eight  or  nine  plays,  we  can 
hardly  fail  to  acquiesce  in  the  general  opinion  that 
views  the  first  period  as  one  of  experiment. 

The  chronicle  history  was  the  Elizabethan  dramatic 
form  whose  possibilities  were  first  exhausted.  King 
John  had  been  only  a  making  over  of  an  earlier  work, 
and  perhaps  the  most  significant  single  change  Shake- 
speare made  was  the  excision  of  the  anti-Romanist 
bias  which  in  the  older  play  had  made  John  a  Protestant 
hero.     Yet  this  history  voices,  too,  in  the  speeches  of 


£>econt>  JjDrrtoD  79 

Faulconbridge,  that  patriotic  enthusiasm  which  finds 
fuller  expression  in  the  dying  Gaunt's  eulogy  of  England 
in  Richard  II,  and  culminates  in  the  triumphant  heroics 
of  Henry  V.  This  national  enthusiasm,  especially 
ebullient  in  the  years  following  the  Great  Armada, 
is  justly  to  be  regarded  as  an  important  condition  of 
the  flourishing  of  these  plays  on  English  history ;  and 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  ebbing  of  this  spirit 
in  the  closing  years  of  Elizabeth's  reign  is  not  un- 
connected with  the  decline  of  this  dramatic  type. 
There  are,  however,  other  causes  clearly  perceptible. 
The  material  was  nearly  exhausted.  Almost  every 
prominent  national  figure  for  the  three  hundred  years 
before  the  founding  of  the  Tudor  dynasty  had  been 
put  upon  the  stage ;  and  to  come  down  to  more  recent 
times  was  to  meddle  with  matters  of  controversy, 
the  ashes  of  which  were  not  yet  cold.  The  reign  of 
Henry  VIII  was  not  touched  till  after  the  death  of 
Elizabeth,  and  the  nature  of  the  treatment  given  to 
the  court  of  her  father  by  Shakespeare  and  Fletcher 
corroborates  our  view.  Further,  the  growing  mastery 
of  technic  which  is  so  clearly  perceptible  in  the 
comedies  of  the  second  period  must  have  been  ac- 
companied by  a  restlessness  under  the  hampering 
conditions  as  to  the  manipulation  of  character  and 
plot  which  were  imposed  by  the  less  plastic  material 
of  the  chronicles.  Some  effort  towards  greater  freedom 
the  dramatist  made  in  the  later  histories.  The  earlier 
plays  of  this  class  had  been  prevailingly  tragic;    but 


80         We>t  i?actef  about  grtjafeespeare 

now  he  supplemented  and  enlivened  the  political 
element  with  the  comic  scenes  which  gave  us  Falstaff; 
yet  these  scenes,  brilliant  as  they  are  in  dialogue  and 
superb  in  characterization,  are  of  necessity  little  more 
than  episodes.  The  form  had  served  its  purpose  as  an 
outlet  for  national  feeling,  but  it  was  now  outgrown. 
So  distinguished,  however,  is  Shakespeare's  achieve- 
ment in  this  kind  that  we  might  be  almost  justified 
in  calling  this  second  period  that  of  the  culmination 
of  the  chronicle  history. 

The  main  objection  to  this  title  lies  in  his  contempo- 
rary accomplishment  in  comedy.  A  Midsummer- 
NighVs  Dream  and  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  the  one  in 
its  graceful  poetic  fancy  and  dainty  lyricism,  the  other 
in  its  balanced  treatment  of  all  the  elements  of  dramatic 
effectiveness  —  action,  character,  and  dialogue,  — 
exhibit  the  dramatist  in  complete  control  of  his  techni- 
cal instruments,  the  creator  of  masterpieces  of  romantic 
comedy.  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew  is  a  more  or  less 
perfunctory  revision,  probably  in  collaboration,  of 
an  older  farce  comedy;  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 
bears  on  its  face  corroboration  of  the  tradition  that  it 
was  written  to  order  in  a  fortnight.  The  power  in 
high  comedy  first  fully  shown  in  The  Merchant  of 
Venice  reaches  its  supreme  pitch  in  the  three  plays 
composed  at  the  turn  of  the  century,  Much  Ado  about 
Nothing,  As  You  Like  It,  and  Twelfth  Night.  In  each 
of  these  a  romantic  love-tale,  laid  in  some  remote 
holiday  world,  is  taken  up,  given  a  specific  atmosphere, 


GTtjirD  lOcrtoD  81 

acted  out  by  a  group  of  delightful  creations  who  are 
endowed  with  intellect,  wit,  and  natural  affection, 
bathed  in  poetic  imagination,  and  yet  handled  with 
sufficient  naturalism  to  awaken  and  hold  our  human 
sympathies.  No  more  purely  delightful  form  of  dra- 
matic art  has  ever  been  contrived ;  none  has  ever  been 
treated  so  as  to  yield  more  fully  its  appropriate  charm ; 
so  that  in  view  of  the  completeness  of  the  artist's 
success  we  are  bound  to  call  the  period  which  closed 
with  the  first  year  of  the  seventeenth  century  the  tri- 
umph of  comedy. 

Julius  Caesar,  the  first  of  the  plays  dealing  with 
Roman  history,  may  have  been  written  before  1600, 
but,  whether  it  preceded  Hamlet  by  one  year  or  three, 
it  forms  a  gradual  introduction  to  the  group  of  the  great 
tragedies.  Masterly  as  it  is  in  its  delineation  of  types, 
rich  in  political  wisdom  and  the  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  splendid  in  rhetoric,  it  still  fails  to  rise  to  the 
intensity  of  passion  that  marks  the  succeeding  dramas. 
In  Hamlet,  Othello,  King  Lear,  and  Macbeth,  Shakespeare 
at  length  faced  the  great  fundamental  forces  that 
operate  in  individual,  family,  and  social  life,  realized 
especially  those  that  make  for  moral  and  physical 
disaster,  took  account  alike  of  the  deepest  tendencies 
in  character  and  of  the  mystery  of  external  fate  or 
accident,  exhibited  these  in  action  and  reaction,  in 
their  simplicity  and  their  complexity,  and  wrought  out 
a  series  of  spectacles  of  the  pity  and  terror  of  human 
suffering  and  human  sin  without  parallel  in  the  modern 

G 


8a         ®fje  ifacta  about  ^Ijafeesfpeare 

world.  In  these  stupendous  tragedies  he  availed 
himself  of  all  the  powers  with  which  he  was  endowed 
and  all  the  skill  which  he  had  acquired.  His  verse 
has  liberated  itself  from  the  formalism  and  monotony 
that  had  marked  ft  in  the  earlier  plays,  and  is  now 
free,  varied,  responsive  to  every  mood  and  every 
type  of  passion;  the  language  is  laden  almost  to  the 
breaking  point  with  the  weight  of  thought ;  the  dialogue 
ranges  from  the  lightest  irony  to  heart-rending  pathos 
and  intolerable  denunciation ;  the  characters  lose  all 
semblance  of  artificial  creations  and  challenge  criticism 
and  analysis  like  any  personage  in  history ;  the  action 
is  pregnant  with  the  profoundest  significance.  Hardly, 
if  at  all,  less  powerful  are  the  later  tragedies  of  the 
Roman  group.  Antony  and  Cleopatra  is  unsurpassed 
for  the  intensity  of  its  picture  of  passion,  for  its  superb 
mastery  of  language,  for  its  relentless  truth.  The 
more  somber  scenes  of  Coriolanus  convey  a  tragedy 
which  either  on  its  personal  or  its  political  side  scarcely 
yields  to  its  predecessors  in  poignancy  and  gloom. 
Whatever  else  he  may  have  written  in  these  years, 
here  is  surely  the  period  of  tragedy. 

Nor  do  the  plays  classed  as  comedies  and  falling  in 
the  first  three  years  of  the  new  century  seriously  modify 
this  impression  of  the  prevailing  tone  of  the  period. 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  and 
Measure  for  Measure  present  a  marked  contrast  to  the 
romantic  comedy  of  the  preceding  stage.  The  love- 
story  of  the  first  deals  with  a  coquette  and  ends  sordidly ; 


jfourtt)  JjOerioD  83 

while  in  the  political  plot,  though  it  gives  occasion  for 
speeches  full  of  weighty  thinking,  jealousy  and  intrigue 
overwhelm  the  heroic  element.  The  second,  alone*  of 
Shakespeare's  comedies,  has  a  hero  who  is  a  rake ;  and, 
skilful  as  is  the  delineation  of  Helena,  it  needs  all  the 
dramatist's  power  to  hold  our  sympathy  and  to  force 
us  to  an  unwilling  assent  to  the  title.  Measure  for 
Measure  has  its  scene  laid  in  a  city  seething  in  moral 
corruption :  out  of  this  rises  the  central  situation  of 
the  play ;  and  the  presence  of  the  most  idealistic  of 
Shakespeare's  heroines  does  not  avail  to  counter- 
balance the  atmosphere  of  sin  and  death  that  mocks 
the  conventional  happy  ending,  and  makes  this  play, 
even  more  than  the  two  others,  seem  more  in  place 
among  the  tragedies  than  among  the  comedies. 

The  plays  of  the  last  period  are,  in  the  Folio,  classed 
with  comedies,  and  such  no  doubt  they  are  if  judged 
merely  by  the  nature  of  their  denouements.  But  if 
we  consider  their  characteristic  note,  and  the  fact  that 
through  the  greater  part  of  each  play  the  forces  and 
passions  involved  are  rather  those  operative  in  tragedy 
than  in  comedy,  we  easily  perceive  why  they  have 
been  classed  as  tragi-comedies  or  dramatic  romances. 
Pericles  in  many  respects  stands  apart  from  the  other 
three  in  nature  as  well  as  in  date,  for  it  is  a  dramatiza- 
tion of  an  old  Greek  romance,  and  in  it  the  hand  of 
another  than  Shakespeare  is  only  too  evident.  Yet 
it  shares  with  the  others  certain  common  features : 
like  The  Tempest  it  has  scenes  at  sea ;  all  four  deal  with 


84         tEfce  JFacta  about  £>ljafee$peare 

the  separation  and  reuniting  of  families;  all  show  us 
sympathetic  figures  deeply  wronged  and  finally  over- 
coming their  injurers  by  forgiveness.  The  abounding 
high  spirits  of  the  earlier  comedies  are  here  replaced 
by  a  mood  of  calm  assurance  of  the  ultimate  triumph 
of  good  and  a  placid  faith  that  survives  a  rude  acquaint- 
ance with  the  evil  that  is  in  men's  hearts.  No  period 
has  a  more  distinctive  quality  than  this  of  the  dramatic 
romances,  in  which  the  dramatist,  on  the  eve  of  his 
retirement  from  London,  gave  his  imagination  free 
play,  and  in  both  character  and  action  stamped  his 
last  creations  with  the  mark  of  a  lofty  idealism. 

The  obvious  fitness  of  this  fourfold  division  into 
periods  inevitably  raises  the  question  of  its  causes,  and 
attempts  at  an  answer  have  run  along  two  main  lines. 
One  of  these  has  been  followed  out  with  much  eloquence 
and  persuasiveness  by  Professor  Dowden,  whose  phrases 
"In  the  Workshop,"  "In  the  World,"  "In  the  Depths," 
"On  the  Heights,"  to  describe  the  four  periods,  point 
clearly  enough  to  the  kind  of  significance  which  he  finds 
in  the  changes  in  mood  and  type  of  play.  With  the 
first  of  these  phrases  few  will  be  disposed  to  quarrel. 
In  his  period  of  experiment  Shakespeare's  style  was 
as  yet  comparatively  unformed,  and  his  attention 
was  so  much  occupied  with  problems  of  technic  that 
even  the  most  psychological  of  critics  finds  here  little 
revelation  of  personality,  and  must  be  content  to 
describe  the  stage  as  one  of  professional  apprenticeship. 
In  the  terms  used  of  the  three  later  periods,  however, 


^Interpretation  of  |3ertoD$  85 

there  is  an  implication  that  the  tone  and  mood  of  the 
plays  in  each  are  the  direct  reflection  of  the  emotional 
experiences  through  which  the  poet  himself  was  passing 
at  the  period  of  their  composition.  But  this  is  to 
take  for  granted  a  theory  of  the  relation  between 
artist  and  production  which  has  against  it  the  general 
testimony  of  creator  and  critic  alike.  It  is  not  at  the 
pitch  of  an  emotional  experience  that  an  artist  success- 
fully transmutes  his  life  into  art,  but  in  retrospect, 
when  his  recollective  imagination  reproduces  his  mood 
in  a  form  capable  of  being  expressed  without  being 
dissipated.  Of  course,  Shakespeare  must  have  lived 
and  enjoyed  and  suffered  intensely ;  but  this  does  not 
commit  us  to  a  belief  in  an  immediate  turning  to  account 
of  personal  experience  in  the  writing  of  drama.  His 
boy,  Hamnet,  died  in  1596,  about  the  time  that  he  was 
writing  The  Merchant  of  Venice  and  the  rollicking  farce 
of  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  and  just  before  he  conceived 
Falstaff ;  it  was  fourteen  years  later  that  he  gave  us 
the  pathetic  figure  of  the  young  Mamillius  in  The 
Winters  Tale.  From  all  we  know  of  his  personal  life, 
the  years  of  King  Lear  and  Othello  were  years  of  abound- 
ing prosperity.  The  lacrimw  rerum  that  touch  the 
mind  in  these  stupendous  tragedies  are  the  outcome 
of  profound  meditation  and  vivid  imagination,  not  the 
accompaniment  of  a  cry  of  instant  pain.  However  we  are 
to  reconstruct  the  spiritual  biography  of  Shakespeare,  it 
is  clear  that  it  is  by  no  such  simple  reading  of  his  life 
in  terms  of  his  treatment  of  comic  or  tragic  themes. 


86         XKty  ifactsf  about  £>ljake0prare 

The  other  line  of  explanation  will  suggest  itself  to 
any  thoughtful  student  who  contemplates  the  facts 
summed  up  in  Chapter  V  on  the  Elizabethan  drama. 
Whatever  Shakespeare's  preeminence  in  the  quality 
of  his  work,  he  was  not  singular  for  innovations  in 
kind.  Not  only  are  the  plays  of  his  experimental  stage 
preceded  by  models  easily  discerned,  but  throughout  his 
career  one  can  see  him  eagerly  taking  up  and  developing 
varieties  of  drama  on  which  less  capable  men  had 
stumbled  and  for  which  the  public  had  shown  relish. 
Chronicle  history,  romantic  comedy,  tragedies  of  blood 
and  revenge,  dramatic  romance,  had  all  been  invented 
by  others,  and  Shakespeare  never  hesitated  to  follow 
their  trail  when  it  promised  to  lead  to  popular  success. 
This  does  not  mean  that  he  did  not  put  conscience  into 
his  work,  but  only  that  the  change  in  type  of  play 
perceptible  from  period  to  period  is  more  safely  to  be 
explained  by  changes  of  theatrical  fashion  and  public 
taste  than  by  conjectures  as  to  the  inner  life  of  the 
dramatist.  Nor  are  we  prevented  from  finding  here 
too  that  great  good  fortune  as  to  occasion  and  oppor- 
tunity that  is  needed,  along  with  whatever  natural 
endowment,  to  explain  the  achievement  of  Shakespeare. 
The  return  of  the  vogue  of  tragedy  after  he  had  attained 
maturity  and  seen  life  was  indeed  happy  for  him  and 
for  us;  as  was  the  rise  of  the  imaginative  type  of 
dramatic  romance  when  the  storm  and  stress  of  his 
youth  had  gone  by.  Had  the  theatrical  demand 
called  for  tragedy  when  Shakespeare  was  in  the  early 


SDatrs  of  ttje  poems;  87 

thirties  and  light  comedy  when  he  was  in  the  forties, 
it  seems  likely  that  he  would  have  responded  to  the 
demand,  though  we  can  hardly  suppose  that  the 
result  would  have  been  as  fortunate  as  in  the  existing 
state  of  things  it  proved  to  be. 

The  foregoing  discussion  has  been  confined  to 
Shakespeare's  plays;  the  poems  present  problems  of 
their  own.  Venus  and  Adonis  (1593)  and  Lucrece 
(1594),  indeed,  resemble  the  plays  of  the  first  period, 
with  which  they  are  contemporary,  both  in  conforming 
to  a  familiar  type  then  much  in  vogue,  the  re-telling 
in  ornate  style  of  classical  legends  drawn  chiefly  from 
Ovid,  and  in  exhibiting  marks  of  the  conscious  exercise 
of  technical  dexterity.  They  show  the  Shakespeare  of 
the  dramas  mainly  in  their  revelation  of  a  remarkable 
power  of  detailed  observation  and  their  richness  of 
phrase  and  fluency  of  versification.  Vivid  and  eloquent 
though  they  are,  they  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  afford- 
ing a  sure  prophecy  of  the  passion  and  power  of  charac- 
terization that  mark  his  mature  dramatic  production. 

The  case  of  the  Sonnets  is  very  different.  From 
Meres's  mention  of  them  in  1598  we  know  that  some 
had  been  written  and  were  being  circulated  in  manu- 
script by  that  date,  and  certain  critics  have  sought  to 
assign  the  main  body  of  them  to  the  first  half  of  the  last 
decade  of  the  sixteenth  century.  But  they  were  not 
published  till  1609,  and  many  of  the  greatest  strike 
a  note  of  emotion  more  profound  than  can  be  heard 
before  the  date  of  Hamlet.     In  writing  them,  Shake- 


88         Ww  jFacta  about  £>t)afee0peare 

speare  was,  to  be  sure,  following  a  vogue,  but  as  Pro- 
fessor Alden  has  pointed  out  in  his  introduction  to  them 
in  the  Tudor  Shakespeare,  they  stand  apart  in  important 
respects  from  the  ordinary  sonnet  sequences  of  the  time. 
All  our  researches  have  failed  to  tell  us  to  whom  they 
were  addressed,  if,  indeed,  they  were  addressed  to  any 
actual  person  at  all;  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  urge 
that  Shakespeare  was  capable  of  profound  and  passion- 
ate utterance  under  the  impulse  of  imagination  alone. 
The  probability  is  that  they  were  produced  at  intervals 
over  a  period  of  perhaps  a  dozen  years,  and  that  they 
represent  a  great  variety  of  moods,  impulses,  and 
suggestions.  While  some  of  them  betray  signs  of 
youth  and  remind  us  of  the  apprentice  workman  of 
Loves  Labours  Lost,  others  display  in  their  depth 
of  thought,  intensity  of  feeling,  and  superb  power  of 
incisive  and  concentrated  expression,  the  full  maturity 
of  the  man  and  the  artist.  Hardly  in  the  great  tragedies 
themselves  is  there  clearer  proof  of  Shakespeare's 
supremacy  in  thought  and  language. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Elizabethan  Drama 

Shakespeare's  lifetime  was  coincident  with  a  period 
of  extraordinary  activity  and  achievement  in  the 
drama.  By  the  date  of  his  birth  Europe  was  witnessing 
the  passing  of  the  religious  drama  that  had  held  its 
course  for  some  five  centuries,  and  the  creation  of  new 
and  mixed  forms  under  the  incentive  of  classical 
tragedy  and  comedy  These  new  forms  were  at  first 
mainly  written  by  scholars  and  performed  by  amateurs, 
but  in  England,  as  everywhere  else  in  western  Europe, 
the  growth  of  a  class  of  professional  actors  was  threat- 
ening to  make  the  drama  popular,  whether  it  should  be 
new  or  old,  classical  or  medieval,  literary  or  farcical. 
Court,  school,  organizations  of  amateurs,  and  the 
strolling  actors  were  all  rivals  in  supplying  a  wide- 
spread desire  for  dramatic  entertainment ;  and  no  boy 
who  went  to  a  grammar  school  could  be  ignorant  that 
the  drama  was  a  form  of  literature  which  gave  glory  to 
Greece  and  Rome  and  might  yet  bestow  its  laurels  on 
England. 

When  Shakespeare  was  twelve  years  old  the  first 

public   playhouse  was  built   in   London.     For  a  time 

literature   held   aloof   from   this   public   stage.     Plays 

aiming  at  literary  distinction  were  written  for  schools 

89 


9©         W$t  jFaets  about  ^tjatospeare 

or  court,  or  for  the  choir  boys  of  St.  Paul's  and  the 
royal  chapel,  who,  however,  gave  plays  in  public  as  well 
as  at  court.  But  the  professional  companies  prospered 
in  their  permanent  theaters,  and  university  men  with 
literary  ambitions  were  quick  to  turn  to  these  theaters 
as  offering  a  means  of  livelihood.  By  the  time  that 
Shakespeare  was  twenty-five,  Lyly,  Peele,  and  Greene 
had  made  comedies  that  were  at  once  popular  and  lit- 
erary; Kyd  had  written  a  tragedy  that  crowded  the 
pit ;  and  Marlowe  had  brought  poetry  and  genius 
to  triumph  on  the  common  stage  —  where  they  had 
played  no  part  since  the  death  of  Euripides.  A  native 
literary  drama  had  been  created,  its  alliance  with  the 
public  playhouses  established,  and  at  least  some  of  its 
great  traditions  had  been  begun. 

The  development  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  for  the 
next  twenty-five  years  is  of  exceptional  interest  to 
students  of  literary  history,  for  in  this  brief  period,  in 
connection  with  the  half-dozen  theaters  of  a  growing 
city  and  the  demands  of  its  varied  population,  we  may 
trace  the  beginning,  growth,  florescence,  and  decay  of 
many  kinds  of  plays,  and  of  many  great  careers. 
Actors,  audiences,  and  dramatists  all  contributed  to 
changes  in  taste  and  practice  and  to  a  development  of 
unexampled  rapidity  and  variety.  In  every  detail  of 
dramatic  art  there  was  change  and  improvement,  a 
constant  addition  of  new  subject-matter,  a  mastery  of 
new  methods  of  technic,  and  an  invention  of  new  kinds 
of  plays.    The  popular  successes  of  Marlowe  and  Kyd 


(Elt^abetljan  Drama  91 

and  the  early  plays  of  Shakespeare  himself  seemed  old- 
fashioned  and  crude  to  the  taste  of  twenty  years  after, 
yet  the  triumphs  of  Shakespeare's  maturity  failed  to 
exhaust  the  opportunities  for  innovation  and  advance. 
We  are  amazed  to-day  at  the  mere  number  of  plays 
produced,  as  well  as  by  the  number  of  dramatists  writing 
at  the  same  time  for  this  London  of  two  hundred  thou- 
sand inhabitants.  To  realize  how  great  was  the 
dramatic  activity,  we  must  remember  further  that 
hosts  of  plays  have  been  lost,  and  that  probably  there 
is  no  author  of  note  whose  entire  work  has  survived. 
By  the  time,  however,  that  Shakespeare  withdrew 
from  London  to  Stratford  the  drama  had  reached  its 
height.  The  dozen  years  from  1600  to  1612  included 
not  only  Shakespeare's  great  tragedies,  but  the  best 
plays  of  Jonson,  Chapman,  and  Webster,  and  the 
entire  collaboration  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  The 
only  other  decades  comparable  with  this  in  the  history 
of  the  drama  are  that  which  heard  plays  by  Sophocles, 
Euripides,  and  Aristophanes  and  that  other  which  saw 
the  masterpieces  of  Racine  and  Moliere. 

The  greatness  of  the  drama,  however,  by  no  means 
ended  with  the  retirement  and  death  of  Shakespeare. 
Some  of  those  who  had  been  his  early  associates  con- 
tinued to  write  for  the  stage,  and  younger  men,  as 
Fletcher,  Massinger,  Ford,  and  Shirley,  carried  on  the 
traditions  of  their  predecessors.  If,  as  in  other  forms 
of  literature,  there  was  decline  and  decadence  during 
the  next  twenty-five  years,  the  drama  also  retained 


92         {&&e  iFact$  about  &>\)dktsptm 

initiative,  poetry,  and  intellectual  force  until  the  end. 
It  was  not  dead  or  dying  when  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil 
War  cut  short  its  course ;  in  fact,  its  plays,  its  traditions, 
even  some  of  its  theaters,  actors,  and  dramatists  sur- 
vived the  suppression  of  twenty  years  and  helped  to 
start  the  drama  of  the  Restoration.  Had  Shakespeare 
lived  to  the  age  of  seventy-eight  he  would  have  seen  the 
closing  of  the  theaters,  and  his  lifetime  would  have 
covered  the  crowded  history  of  the  drama's  develop- 
ment from  such  semi-moralities  as  Cambises  and  The 
Nice  Wanton  to  the  last  plays  of  Massinger  and  Shirley. 
For  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  was  a  sharer  in 
this  dramatic  movement,  working  in  London  as  actor, 
manager,  and  playwright.  While  no  playwright  was 
more  desirous  than  he  to  find  in  the  stage  full  opportu- 
nity for  his  genius,  he  was  as  keen  as  any  in  gauging  the 
immediate  theatrical  demand  and  in  meeting  the  vary- 
ing conditions  of  a  highly  competitive  profession.  As 
we  have  already  noted,  he  began  by  imitating  those  who 
had  won  success,  and  to  the  end  he  was  adroit  in  taking 
advantage  of  a  new  dramatic  fashion  or  discovery. 
Like  his  fellows,  he  often  took  his  plots  from  novels, 
histories,  or  other  narratives ;  but  his  very  choice  of 
stories  might  be  determined  by  the  theatrical  taste  of 
the  moment,  and  in  his  treatment  of  those  stories  he 
shows  in  person,  situation,  or  scene,  a  consideration  of 
current  practices,  traditions,  and  conventions.  In 
every  field  of  literature,  a  writer  is  conditioned  by  the 
work  of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries,  and  this 


^Beginnings  of  tty  SDrama  93 

dependence  on  current  taste  is  especially  important 
in  the  drama,  where  practice  tends  to  fix  itself  in  con- 
vention, and  where  innovation  to  be  successful  requires 
cooperation  from  the  actors  and  approval  from  the 
audience  as  well  as  genius  from  the  author.  Though 
Shakespeare  is  for  all  time,  he  is  part  and  parcel  of  the 
Elizabethan  drama.  If  his  plays  are  Elizabethan  in 
their  defects  and  limitations,  such  as  their  trivial  puns 
and  word-play,  their  overcrowded  imagery,  their  loose 
and  broken  structure,  their  paucity  of  female  roles, 
their  mixture  of  comic  and  tragic,  their  reliance  on  dis- 
guise and  mistaken  identity  as  motives,  their  use  of 
improbable  or  absurd  stories  ;  they  are  Elizabethan  also 
in  the  qualities  of  their  greatness,  their  variety  of  sub- 
ject, their  intense  interest  in  the  portrayal  of  character, 
the  flexibility  and  audacity  of  their  language,  their  noble 
and  opulent  verse,  the  exquisite  idealism  of  their 
romantic  love,  and  their  profound  analysis  of  the 
sources  of  human  tragedy. 

The  Elizabethan  drama  was  a  continuation  of  the 
medieval  drama  transformed  by  the  influence  of  classical 
models,  especially  the  comedies  of  Terence  and  Plautus 
and  the  tragedies  of  Seneca.  In  England,  by  the 
beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Miracle  and 
Mystery  plays  were  declining  and  were  soon  to  dis- 
appear. The  most  common  type  of  drama  for  the  next 
sixty  years  was  the  Morality,  which  symbolized  life  as 
a  conflict  of  vices  and  virtues  or  of  the  body  and  the 
soul.    The   drama   was   rapidly  changing   from   long 


94         Qfyt  5Fact$  about  £>&akespeare 

out-door  performances  to  brief  plays  that  could  be 
given  almost  anywhere  by  a  few  actors.  The  term 
Interludes  became  common  for  all  such  entertainments, 
and  allegorical  frameworks  served  to  contain  a  wide 
variety  of  matter,  farce,  pedagogy,  politics,  religion, 
history,  or  pageant.  Close  imitations  of  the  classical 
forms  were  soon  attempted  by  scholars  and  men  of 
letters;  but  as  the  professional  actors  grew  in  impor- 
tance the  development  of  a  national  comedy  and  tragedy 
went  on  without  much  direction  from  critics  or  theo- 
rists, but  rather  in  response  to  the  demands  of  actors 
and  audiences  and  to  the  initiative  of  authors. 

The  developments  of  comedy  were  numerous.  Alle- 
gory gradually  disappeared,  and  the  Morality  ceased 
to  exist  as  a  definite  type,  though  its  symbolization  of 
life  and  its  concern  with  conduct  were  handed  along  to 
the  later  drama.  The  plays  of  Robert  Wilson,  about 
1580,  show  an  interesting  use  of  allegory  for  the  pur- 
poses of  social  satire,  and  realism  and  satire  long  con- 
tinued to  characterize  Elizabethan  comedy,  though  for 
a  time  confined  mostly  to  incidental  scenes.  Common 
and  incidental  also  was  farce,  which  is  found  in  most 
plays  of  the  century  whether  tragic,  comic,  or  moral 
in  their  main  purpose.  Further,  it  was  soon  discovered 
that  the  Plautian  scheme  of  comedy  was  well  suited  to 
farcical  incident,  as  in  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle  (1552).1 
The  classical  models  or  their  Italian  imitations  also  pro- 

1  In  this  chapter  the  dates  appended  to  the  plays  indicate 
the  conjectured  year  of  presentation.  Dates  of  publication  are 
prefixed  by  pr. 


influence  of  ipiautus  9s 

duced  other  and  less  domestic  imitations,  as  in  Gas- 
coigne's  translation  of  Ariosto's  I  Suppositi  (pr.  1566* 
and  Udall's  Ralph  Roister  Doistcr  (1540) ;  a  little  later, 
Lyly's  Mother  Rombie,  Munday's  Two  Italian  Gentle- 
men, and  Shakespeare's  Comedy  of  Errors.  Indeed  such 
adaptations  continued  much  later  and  resulted  in  some 
of  the  best  farces,  or  realistic  comedies  of  intrigue,  as 
Shakespeare's  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  (1598),  Hey- 
wood's  Wise  Woman  of  Hogsdon  (1604),  Jonson's 
Epicene  (1609)  and  Alchemist  (1610). 

The  Plautian  model,  however,  was  far  more  influ- 
ential than  can  be  indicated  by  these  close  adaptations 
or  by  any  list  of  direct  imitations  or  borrowings.  For 
the  Elizabethan  it  offered  a  standard  of  comedy,  and  its 
plots,  persons,  and  devices  were  freely  used  in  all  kinds 
of  plays,  romantic  as  well  as  realistic,  sentimental  as 
well  as  satirical  or  farcical.  The  plots  of  Plautus  and 
Terence  offer  a  series  of  tricks  in  which  the  complica- 
tions are  often  increased  by  having  the  trickster  tricked. 
Certain  fixed  types  of  character  play  the  parts  of  gulls 
or  gullers,  as  the  old  parents,  the  young  lovers,  the 
parasite,  the  braggart  soldier,  and  the  clever  slave. 
The  intrigue  is  forwarded  by  the  use  of  disguise,  mis- 
taken identity,  and  most  surprising  coincidences ;  and 
it  is  accomplished  by  dialogue,  often  gross  and  abusive, 
but  usually  lively.  This  model  served  every  nation 
of  western  Europe,  reappearing  with  prolonged  vitality 
in  the  inventions  of  Lope  de  Vega,  the  "  commedia  del 
arte "  of   Italy,  and   in  the  masterpieces   of   Moliere 


96         W^z  ifacts  about  £>t)atepeare 

Much  in  its  scheme  that  seems  artificial  and  theatrical 
to-day  was,  we  must  remember,  accepted  without 
question  by  Europe  of  the  sixteenth  century  as  essential 
and  desirable  in  comedy,  especially  in  realistic  comedy 
of  intrigue  or  manners. 

The  plots  of  Terence,  notably  that  of  the  Andria, 
also  gave  some  encouragement  to  the  modern  fondness 
for  adventure  and  sentimental  love,  and  some  classical 
sanction  to  the  abundant  romantic  material  that  was 
knocking  at  the  doors  of  comedy.  If  by  romantic  we 
mean  what  is  strange  and  removed  from  ordinary 
experience  and  what  has  the  attractions  of  wonder, 
thrill,  and  idealization,  then  for  the  Elizabethan  the 
world  of  romance  was  a  wide  one.  It  included  the 
medieval  stories  of  knights  and  their  gests,  and  also 
the  fresher  tales  of  classical  mythology ;  the  Americas 
and  Indies  of  contemporary  adventure  and  the  artificial 
Arcadias  of  humanist  imitators  of  Virgil  and  Theocritus. 
Ovid  and  Malory,  Homer  and  Boccaccio,  Drake  and 
Sanazzaro,  were  all  contributors.  The  union  of  this 
romance  with  comedy  on  the  stage  began  in  two  ways, 
and  principally  under  the  innovation  of  two  writers, 
Lyly  and  Greene. 

The  taste  for  pageants,  processions,  and  tableaux 
grew  and  flourished  under  the  patronage  of  the  court ; 
and  music,  dancing,  and  spectacle  were  combined  with 
dialogue  in  various  court  exhibitions  and  plays  given  by 
the  child  actors.  John  Lyly,  writing  for  these  choir 
boys,  developed  this  type  of  entertainment  into  a  dis- 


iltili?  and  <$mnt  97 

tinct  species  of  comedy.  Of  his  eight  plays,  written  at 
intervals  from  1580  to  1593,  all  but  one  were  in  prose, 
and  all  except  the  Plautian  Mother  Bombie  adhere 
loosely  to  a  common  formula.  Classical  myth  or  story, 
with  pastoral  elements,  and  occasionally  an  allegory 
of  contemporary  politics,  furnish  the  basis  of  plots  with 
similar  love  complications.  Gods,  goddesses,  nymphs, 
fairies,  and  many  others  add  to  the  spectacle  and  mingle 
in  the  love  intrigue,  and  all  rise  to  a  graceful  dialogue, 
which  quickens  to  brisk  repartee  when  the  pages  or 
servants  appear.  The  witty  page  supersedes  the  rude 
buffoon  of  earlier  plays,  and  everything  is  graceful  and 
ingenious,  slight  in  serious  interest,  but  relieved  by 
movement  and  song. 

This  is  the  form  of  comedy  which  Shakespeare 
adopted  for  Love's  Labours  Lost  and  perfected  in  A  Mid- 
summer-Night''s  Dream.  But  Lyly's  contribution  should 
not  be  defined  merely  by  this  type  of  drama,  original 
as  it  is  in  its  departure  from  medieval  or  classical 
precedents.  He  showed  how  comedy  might  be  a  courtly 
and  literary  entertainment  and  also  the  playground  of 
fancy  and  wit. 

The  second  development  of  romantic  comedy  came 
through  the  dramatization  of  stories  of  love,  adventure, 
and  marvels.  To  such  stories  Robert  Greene  gave  a 
heightened  charm  tlirough  the  idealization  of  his 
heroines.  His  Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bungay  (1590) 
is  a  magic  play  with  an  historical  setting ;  but  the 
interest  gathers  and  centers  on  the  love  story  of  Mar- 

H 


98         t&tje  ifacts  about  £>tmfee$peare 

garet,  the  Keeper's  daughter.  In  James  IV  (c.  1591) 
the  pseudo-historical  setting  frames  the  stories  of  the 
noble  Ida  and  the  wronged  but  faithful  Dorothea. 
In  the  incidents  of  the  plot,  with  its  woman  disguised 
as  a  page,  the  faithless  lover,  and  the  final  reconciliation, 
and  also  in  the  sweetness,  modesty,  and  loyalty  of  the 
heroine,  the  play  reminds  us  of  Shakespeare's  comedies 
and  is  indeed  very  close  to  The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona,  in  which  he  was  clearly  adopting  Greene's 
formula. 

Tragedy  naturally  lagged  somewhat  behind  comedy 
as  a  form  of  popular  entertainment.  So  far  as  we  can 
judge  from  the  extant  plays,  there  was  until  the  appear- 
ance of  Kyd  and  Marlowe  no  real  union  between 
Senecan  imitations  like  Gorboduc  (\5Q2),Jocasta  (1566), 
and  The  Misfortunes  of  Arthur  (1588),  on  the  one  hand, 
and  popular  medleys  of  morality,  tragedy,  and  farce 
like  Cambises  (1565),  Horestes  (pr.  1567),  and  Appius  and 
Virginia  (1563),  on  the  other.  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine 
(1587)  was  an  epoch-making  play  because  it  brought 
to  the  popular  drama  true  poetry  and  genuine  passion ; 
but  it  and  its  successors  also  established  a  new  type 
of  tragedy.  Marlowe  made  no  effort  to  retain  the 
structure  or  themes  of  classical  tragedy;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  made  his  plays  loosely  connected  series  of 
scenes  dealing  with  the  life  and  death  of  the  hero, 
crowded  with  persons  and  with  startling  action.  In 
this  he  was  conforming  to  the  method  of  the  dramatic 
narratives  that  pleased  the  theaters.     But  each  play 


^arlotoe  ana  &ed  99 

centers  its  dramatic  interest  on  a  mighty  protagonist 
battling  with  his  overweening  desires  and  their  inevi- 
table disappointment.  With  the  spectacle  and  sensa- 
tion, the  rant  and  absurdity,  there  is  also  dramatic 
structure  and  tragic  significance  in  the  revelation  of 
these  protagonists,  their  volitional  struggles,  and 
their  direful  catastrophes.  These  plays  set  the  key 
for  all  Elizabethan  tragedy,  including  Shakespeare's 
Lear,  Othello,  and  Macbeth.  They  were  immediately 
followed  by  dozens  of  imitators.  All  blank  verse  echoed 
Marlowe's  mighty  line,  and  tragedy  was  filled  with 
ranting  conquerors  like  Tamburlaine,  monstrous  vil- 
lains like  Barabbas,  and  murders  like  that  of  Edward  II. 
Shakespeare  was  his  pupil  in  the  2  and  3  Henry  VI, 
mastered  his  methods  in  Richard  III,  and  still  wrote  in 
emulation,  though  no  longer  in  imitation,  in  Richard  II 
and  The  Merchant  of  Venice. 

Within  a  few  months  of  Tamburlaine,  appeared  a  play 
of  almost  equal  influence  on  subsequent  drama,  Kyd's 
Spanish  Tragedy.  Kyd  was  a  student  of  Seneca,  a 
translator  of  Garnier's  Cornelia,  a  Senecan  imitation ; 
and  he  adapted  some  elements  of  classical  tragedy  to 
the  English  stage.  The  ten  plays  ascribed  to  Seneca 
were  the  accepted  models  of  tragedy  in  the  Renaissance. 
Their  presentation  of  the  more  horrible  stories  of  Greek 
tragedy,  their  rhetorical  and  aphoristic  style,  their 
moralizing  and  their  psychology,  were  all  greatly 
admired.  They  were  believed  by  the  Elizabethans  to 
have  been  acted,  and  their  murders  and  violence  seemed 


ioo        t&tje  jFact*  about  £>ljatepeare 

to  warrant  such  action  on  the  modern  stage;  though 
the  Elizabethans  found  less  adaptable  their  use  of  the 
chorus,  the  restriction  of  the  number  of  persons  speak- 
ing, their  long  monologues,  and  the  limitation  of  the 
action  to  the  last  phase  of  a  story.  Kyd  modeled  his 
rhetoric  on  Seneca  and  retained  a  vestige  of  the  chorus, 
long  soliloquies,  and  some  other  traits  of  Senecan 
structure;  but  his  main  borrowing  was  the  essential 
story  of  a  crime  and  its  punishment.  He  thus  brought 
to  the  Elizabethan  stage  the  classical  theme  of  retribu- 
tion. In  his  Spanish  Tragedy,  a  murder  is  avenged 
under  the  direction  of  a  ghost,  by  a  hesitating  and  solilo- 
quizing protagonist,  who  is  driven  through  doubt  and 
speculation  almost  to  madness,  and  then  to  craft,  with 
which  he  outwits  the  wily  villain  and  brings  all  the 
leading  dramatis  persona;  to  a  final  slaughter. 

Blood  revenge  was  established  as  the  favorite  motive 
of  tragedy;  the  conflict  of  craft  between  protagonist 
and  villain  made  up  the  action,  and  the  speculations  of 
the  avenger  gave  a  chance  for  wisdom  and  eloquence. 
One  other  play,  probably  by  Kyd,  the  lost  Hamlet, 
also  presented  these  features  and  later  formed  the  basis 
for  Shakespeare's  tragedy.  Other  plays,  as  Soliman 
and  Perseda,  The  True  Tragedy  of  Richard  HI,  and 
Locrine  immediately  adopted  Kyd's  theme  and  technic ; 
indeed  the  stage  for  half  a  dozen  years  abounded  in 
avenging  heroes,  diabolical  villains,  shrieking  ghosts, 
and  long  soliloquies  on  fate,  death,  retribution,  and 
kindred   themes.     Titus   Andronicus   is   quite   in   the 


lEnglisty  distort!  JjOlaps  101 

Kydian  vein.  Many  plays  combined  the  salient  traits 
of  Marlowe  and  Kyd,  and  henceforth  no  one  wrote 
tragedy  without  paying  homage  to  their  inventions. 

We  have  now  noticed  the  most  important  develop- 
ments in  comedy  and  tragedy  made  by  the  time  that 
Shakespeare  began  writing  for  the  theaters ;  and  he 
made  quick  use  of  the  progress  accomplished  by 
Plautian  and  Lylyan  comedy,  by  Greene's  romances, 
and  by  the  tragedies  of  Kyd  and  Marlowe.  There 
were  other  plays  not  easily  classified  under  these  names 
and  of  less  service  to  Shakespeare.  But  to  the 
critical  playgoer  of  1590  few  plays  would  have  seemed 
either  'right  comedies'  or  'right  tragedies.'  The  ma- 
jority were  mere  dramatizations  of  story  without  close 
construction  or  selection  of  material,  seeking  merely 
varied  and  abundant  action.  They  drew  their  material 
from  all  kinds  of  narrative  sources,  Italian  novelle, 
current  pamphlets,  Latin  historians,  or  English  chron- 
icles ;  and,  whether  historical  or  fictitious,  were  usually 
known  as  Histories,  i.e.,  stories. 

The  patriotic  interest  in  English  history  fostered 
the  presentation  of  its  scenes  upon  the  stage.  The 
chronicles  of  Halle  and  Holinshed  furnished  abundant 
material ;  and  embassies,  processions,  and  pitched  bat- 
tles filled  the  stage  with  movement.  Historical  plays 
might,  indeed,  draw  from  classical  history  or  from  cur- 
rent foreign  history,  but  from  1590  to  1603  a  very  large 
number  of  plays  give  scenic  representation  to  the 
reigns  of  English  kings. 


ioa        tEtje  jfacte?  about  £>tjafee$peare 

Some  of  these  form  a  distinct  class,  since,  however 
mixed  with  comic  matter,  they  imitate  Kyd  or  Marlowe 
and  recast  the  chronicle  of  a  reign  to  fit  the  accepted 
subjects  of  tragedy,  the  downfall  of  a  prince,  the 
revenge  for  a  crime,  the  overthrow  of  a  tyrant,  or  the 
retribution  brought  upon  a  conspirator  or  usurper. 
Conceived  under  Marlowe's  influence,  and  perhaps 
owing  something  to  his  hand,  is  the  tetralogy  that 
includes  the  three  parts  of  Henry  VI  and  Richard  III. 

Those  history  plays,  however,  that  do  not  follow  the 
formulas  for  tragedy,  are  a  heterogeneous  group  not 
easily  classified.  They  usually  keep  to  the  loose  chron- 
icle method  that  presented  a  series  of  scenes  without 
much  regard  to  unity  or  coherence.  Farce,  comedy, 
magic,  spectacle,  heroics,  and  everything  that  might 
have  happened  was  permissible  in  these  plays,  and 
perhaps  the  only  thing  indispensable  was  a  pitched 
field  with  opposing  armies.  Biographical,  comic, 
popular,  patriotic,  or  what  not,  these  plays  brought  a 
variety  of  scenes  to  the  theaters,  but  offered  only  a 
loose  and  flexible  form  rather  than  any  dramatic 
direction  or  model  to  the  creator  of  Falstaff . 

The  early  deaths  of  Greene  and  Marlowe  and  the 
retirement  of  Lyly  left  Shakespeare  the  heir  of  their 
inventions.  Though  his  plays  were  at  first  imitative, 
he  soon  surpassed  his  predecessors  in  gift  of  expres- 
sion, in  depiction  of  character,  and  in  deftness  of 
dramatic  technic.  The  years  from  1593  to  near  the 
turn  of  the  century  are  particularly  lacking  in  records  of 


^tjafccspeare's  iUa&ersfjtp  103 

plays  or  theaters ;  but  it  seems  clear  that  the  main 
developments  of  the  drama  were  in  romantic  comedy 
and  chronicle  history ;  and  it  is  also  clear  that  Shake- 
speare was  the  unquestioned  leader  in  both  of  these 
forms. 

In  comparison  with  his  associates,  he  was  now  the 
master,  relying  on  his  own  experience  rather  than  on 
their  innovations.  Neither  the  crude  but  popular 
Mucedorus  (1595)  nor  Dekker's  poetical  extravagance, 
Old  Fortunatus  (1596),  could  contribute  to  his  develop- 
ment of  romantic  comedy ;  and  domestic  comedy  could 
not  instruct  the  inventor  of  Launce  and  Launcelot. 
Incidental  relationships  may  indeed  be  noted.  As 
You  Like  It,  for  example,  dramatizes  a  pastoral  novel 
with  the  addition  of  scenes  that  recall  Robin  Hood's 
forest  life,  and  may  owe  something  to  the  suggestion  of 
two  Robin  Hood  plays  by  Chettle  and  Munday,  The 
Downfall  and  Death  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntingdon  (1598). 
But,  on  the  whole,  the  indebtedness  was  on  the  other 
side,  and  imitations  indicate  that  men  of  Shakespeare's 
day  realized  that  romantic  comedy  and  history  could 
not  be  carried  farther. 

In  fact,  a  certain  reaction  set  in  against  these  forms 
of  drama.  Near  the  close  of  the  century  new  ten- 
dencies became  manifest.  Comedy  tended  to  become 
more  realistic  and  satiric.  Chapman,  Marston,  Mid- 
dleton,  and  Jonson,  all  began  writing  romantic  comedy, 
but  changed  shortly  to  realistic.  Jonson,  in  his  Every 
Man  in  His  Humour  (1598),  announced  his  opposition 


104       Wfyt  jFacts  about  £>batopeare 

to  the  lawless  drama  which  had  preceded  —  whether 
romantic  comedy  or  chronicle  history  —  and  proposed 
the  creation  of  a  new  satirical  comedy  of  manners.  He 
was  moved  partly  by  a  desire  to  break  from  past 
methods  in  order  to  bring  comedy  closer  to  classical 
example,  and  partly  by  a  desire  for  realism,  a  faithful 
presentation,  analysis,  and  criticism  of  current  manners. 
The  growth  of  London  and  the  increase  in  luxury  and 
immorality  seem  to  have  encouraged  such  a  movement, 
and  for  the  decade  after  1598  there  were  many  come- 
dies of  London  life,  mostly  satiric,  and  nearly  all 
realistic.  Many  varieties  are  to  be  found,  from  gross 
representation  of  the  seamy  side  of  city  life  to  serious 
discussion  of  social  questions,  and  from  sympathetic 
picturing  of  certain  trades  to  satiric  exposure  of  the 
evils  of  society. 

Jonson's  emulation  of  Aristophanes  led  him  into 
arrogant  personal  satire  in  the  Poetaster  (1601),  and 
there  ensued  the  so-called  war  of  the  theaters,  in  which 
Marston,  Dekker,  and,  according  to  report,  Shakespeare 
were  Jonson's  opponents.  If  Shakespeare,  indeed,  had 
a  share  in  this  war,  he  showed  only  slight  interest  in  the 
prevailing  comedy.  Measure  for  Measure  uses  the 
device  of  a  spying  duke  employed  in  Marston's  Mal- 
content, and  discusses  sexual  relationships  somewhat  in 
the  tone  of  the  time,  while  the  scenes  dealing  with 
houses  of  ill  fame  are  not  unlike  similar  scenes  in  the 
contemporary  plays  of  Middleton,  Webster,  and  others. 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  also,  show  more  of  a  satiric  temper 


Idealistic  Cometh  ios 

tlian  is  usual  in  Shakespeare.  But  neither  of  these 
plays  partakes  to  any  extent  of  the  prevailing  satire  on 
contemporary  London.  Wide  as  was  the  range  of 
Shakespeare's  genius,  it  seems  to  have  avoided  the  field 
of  satire. 

A  review  of  the  drama  must,  however,  at  least  re- 
mark the  importance  of  this  development  of  realistic 
comedy  which  flourished  in  the  decade  after  1598  and 
continued  to  the  end.  Jonson's  comedy  of  '  humors' 
includes  Volpone  (1605),  which  overstepped  the  bounds 
of  comedy  in  its  denunciation  of  evil,  the  Alchemist 
(1611),  perhaps  the  best  English  play  on  the  Latin 
model,  and  Bartholomew  Fair  (1614),  most  original  and 
English  of  them  all.  Dekker's  fine  drama  of  middle 
class  life,  The  Honest  Whore  (1604),  and  Heywood's 
masterpiece,  A  Woman  Killed  with  Kindness  (1603),  a 
play  suggesting  both  the  sentimental  comedy  of  the 
eighteenth  century  and  the  problem  play  of  to-day, 
also  belong  to  this  very  remarkable  era  of  domestic 
themes  and  serious  realism. 

If  Shakespeare  did  not  turn  to  satire  or  realism  or 
current  social  problems,  he  did  turn  away  from  chronicle 
history  plays  and  romantic  comedies.  As  we  saw  in 
the  last  chapter,  for  a  period  of  eight  or  nine  years,  from 
Julius  Casar  to  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  he  gave  his  best 
efforts  of  his  maturity  to  tragedy.  The  day  for 
mere  imitation  of  Seneca,  Kyd,  or  Marlowe,  was  past ; 
and  scholars  like  Jonson  and  Chapman  as  well  as 
Shakespeare  sought  in  the  tragedy  of  the  public  theaters 


io6         X&ty  jFacts  about  fc>l)afeegpeare 

an  opportunity  for  wisdom  and  poetry  and  a  criticism 
of  life. 

For  models,  Shakespeare  did  not  need  to  go  back 
farther  than  his  own  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  Richard  II, 
nor  to  imitate  any  other  than  himself.  Yet  his  great 
plays  may  have  seemed  to  his  contemporaries  to  adopt 
rather  than  to  depart  from  current  dramatic  practices. 
They  belong  to  the  Elizabethan  '  tragedy  of  blood ' ; 
against  a  background  of  courts  and  battles  they  present 
the  downfall  of  princes ;  they  rest  on  improbable  stories 
that  end  in  fearful  slaughter ;  they  invariably  set  forth 
great  crimes,  compact  of  murder,  lust,  villainous 
intrigue,  and  ferocious  cruelty.  Some  of  them  follow 
Kyd  in  recounting  a  story  of  blood  vengeance  presided 
over  by  ghosts,  or  discover  the  retribution  due  for  crime 
in  physical  torments.  Nearly  all  follow  Marlowe  in 
centering  the  tragic  interest  in  the  fate  of  a  supernormal 
protagonist  who  is  swayed  by  an  overpowering  emotion, 
and  in  elevating  these  human  desires  and  passions  into 
tremendous  forces  that  work  their  waste  of  devastation 
and  ruin  on  character  and  life. 

The  contemporary  tragedy  is  brought  closest  to 
Shakespeare  in  the  relations  of  the  revenge  plays  to 
Hamlet.  The  type,  introduced  by  Kyd  in  The  Spanish 
Tragedy  and  the  original  Hamlet,  underwent  a  special 
development  in  Marston's  Antonio's  Revenge  (1598) 
and  several  other  plays  appearing  from  1598  to  1603, 
that  dealt  with  the  blood  vengeance  of  a  son  for  a 
father.     At  the  same  time  Shakespeare  turned  to  the 


remaking  of  the  old  Hamlet  and  to  a  new  treatment  of 
the  old  theme,  yet  retained  many  of  the  old  accessories. 
Marston  reproduces  the  essential  story  of  blood  ven- 
geance, presided  over  by  a  ghost,  crossed  by  both  lust 
and  sentimental  love,  commented  on  by  long  soliloquies, 
and  accompanied  by  pretended  madness.  Chettle,  in 
Hoffman,  amplifies  the  horrors  and  villainy  and  brings 
the  story  of  the  mad  girl  into  closer  juncture  with  the 
main  plot  than  is  the  case  in  Hamlet.  Tourneur,  writing 
independently  of  Shakespeare,  introduces,  among  all 
sorts  of  horrors,  a  Christian  ghost  who  forbids  blood 
vengeance  and  commands  submission  to  Providence. 
Ben  Jonson,  in  his  additions  to  the  old  Spanish  Tragedy, 
gives  fine  imaginative  interpretation  of  the  wavering 
moods  of  meditation,  irony,  and  frenzy  with  which 
Kyd  had  dealt  only  crudely.  The  later  development 
of  this  type  proceeded  without  much  regard  to  Shake- 
speare's Hamlet,  but  rather  in  the  direction  started  by 
Marston's  tragedies  and  his  influential  tragi-comedy, 
The  Malcontent.  While  Hamlet  may  be  described  as 
centering  attention  on  a  meditative  and  high-minded 
avenger,  Tourneur,  Webster,  Middleton,  and  later 
dramatists  found  greater  interest  in  the  study  of  villainy 
and  intrigue.  Revenge  is  born  of  depravity  rather  than 
duty,  and  given  a  setting  of  physical  horrors  and  unnat- 
ural lust.  Tourneur's  Revenger's  Tragedy  (1606)  and 
Webster's  White  Devil  (1610)  and  Duchess  of  Malfi  (1611) 
represent  the  culmination  of  this  play  of  revenge,  lust, 
and  horror,  and  supply  a  sort  of  standard  for  tragedy 


io8        W$t  ifactsf  about  £>tmte*peare 

until  the  Civil  War.  Webster,  it  must  be  added,  was 
hardly  less  interested  than  Shakespeare  in  character 
and  motive,  though  he  chose  to  study  these  in  a  chamber 
of  horrors. 

Shakespeare's  Roman  tragedies  also  suggest  compari- 
son with  contemporary  plays,  those  either  on  Roman 
or  on  contemporary  foreign  history.  Tragedies  dealing 
with  Roman  history  had  preceded  Julius  Ccesar,  but 
that  play  doubtless  stimulated  Jonson's  Sejanus  (1603) 
and  Catiline  (1611).  Both  these  plays  attempted  an 
approach  to  classical  structure  and  a  thorough  study 
and  digest  of  classical  history.  This  effort  to  make 
tragedy  a  serious  and  authoritative  interpretation  of 
history  was  also  shared  by  Chapman  in  his  plays  dealing 
with  contemporary  French  history,  1  and  2  Bussy 
D'Ambois  (1601-1607)  and  1  and  2  Biron  (1608). 
While  Jonson  strove  to  free  his  style  from  the  abun- 
dance of  conceits,  figures,  and  passages  of  description  that 
had  characterized  earlier  drama,  Chapman  used  every 
chance  to  crowd  his  verse  with  far-stretched  figure  and 
weighty  apothegm.  At  its  worst  it  is  peculiarly  repre- 
sentative of  Elizabethan  confusion  and  bombast ;  at 
its  best  it  is  closest  of  all  in  its  resemblance  to  Shake- 
speare's. Like  Jonson  and  Chapman,  Shakespeare 
sought  historical  backgrounds  for  his  characters  and 
found  a  fascination  in  the  interpretation  of  the  motives 
of  the  great  protagonists  of  the  world  of  antiquity. 
It  is  worthy  of  note,  however,  that  he  seems  to  have 
taken  no  interest  in  another  class  of  subjects  much 


HBraumont  ana  iFtac^er  109 

favored  by  his  contemporaries.  Contemporary  crimes 
treated  with  an  excess  of  realism  and  didactic  con- 
clusions are  common  in  drama  from  Arden  of  Feveisham 
(1590)  on,  and  engaged  the  services  of  Jonson,  Webster, 
Ford,  Dekker,  and  others. 

About  1607  a  new  departure  appeared  in  the  work  of 
the  dramatic  collaborators,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
After  some  experiments,  they  won,  in  their  tragi-come- 
dies,  Philaster  (1608)  and  A  King  and  No  King  (1610), 
and  their  tragedy,  The  Maid's  Tragedy  (1609),  great 
theatrical  successes,  and  in  these  and  similar  plays  es- 
tablished a  new  kind  of  dramatic  romance.  The  realis- 
tic comedies  of  Jonson  and  Middleton,  which,  along  with 
the  great  tragedies  of  Shakespeare,  crowd  the  stage 
history  of  the  preceding  ten  years,  had  offered  nothing 
similar  to  these  romances  which  joined  tragic  and 
idyllic  material  in  scenes  of  brilliant  theatrical  effective- 
ness, abounding  in  transitions  from  suspense  to  surprise, 
and  culminating  in  telling  denouements.  This  new 
realm  of  romance  is  an  artificial  one,  contrasting  pure 
love  with  horrid  entanglements  of  lust,  and  ever 
bringing  love  in  conflict  with  duty,  friendship,  or  the 
code  of  honor.  In  its  intriguing  courts,  or  in  nearby 
forests  where  the  idyls  are  placed,  love  of  one  kind  or 
another  is  the  ruling  and  vehement  passion,  riding 
high-handed  over  tottering  thrones,  rebellious  subjects, 
usurping  tyrants,  and  checked,  if  checked  at  all,  only 
by  the  unexampled  force  of  honor.  Romance,  in  short, 
depends  on  situation,  on  the  artificial  but  skilful  juxta- 


no        tEtje  jFactsf  about  £>ljaftespeare 

position  of  emotions  and  persons,  and  on  the  new 
technic  that  sacrifices  consistency  of  characterization 
for  surprise.  Characterization  tends  to  become  typical, 
and  motives  tend  to  be  based  on  fixed  conventions,  such 
as  the  code  of  honor  might  dictate  to  a  seventeenth- 
century  gentleman ;  but  the  lack  of  individuality  in 
character  is  counterbalanced  by  the  vividness  with 
which  the  lovers,  tyrants,  faithful  friends,  evil  women, 
and  sentimental  heroines  are  presented,  and  by  the 
fluent  and  lucid  style  which  varies  to  any  emotional 
requirement  and  rises  to  the  demands  of  the  most 
sensational  situations. 

Cymbeline  in  its  plot  bears  some  close  resemblances 
to  Philaster,  and  it  seems  likely  that  Shakespeare  was 
adopting  the  methods  and  materials  of  the  new  romance. 
At  all  events,  he  turned  from  tragedy  to  romance,  and 
in  Cymbeline  and  the  far  more  original  and  successful 
Winter  s  Tale  and  Tempest  produced  tragi-comedies  that, 
like  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's,  rely  on  a  contrast  of 
tragic  and  idyllic  and  on  surprising  plots  and  idealized 
heroines.  After  Beaumont's  retirement  in  1611  or 
1612,  it  seems  probable  that  Fletcher  and  Shakespeare 
collaborated  together  on  Henry  VIII  and  The  Two 
Noble  Kinsmen. 

There  is  ample  evidence  that  the  plays  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  won  a  great  popular  renown,  surpassing  for 
a  time  those  of  Shakespeare  and  all  others.  Beaumont 
did  not  live  long  after  he  ceased  to  write  for  the  stage, 
dying  at  thirty,  in  the  same  year  as  Shakespeare.     Jon- 


son  had  given  up  dramatic  writing  for  the  time,  and 
Fletcher  was  left  the  chief  writer  for  Shakespeare's  old 
company  and  the  undoubted  leader  of  the  theater. 
Including  the  plays  written  in  collaboration  with  Beau- 
mont, Shakespeare,  and  later  with  Massinger,  he  left 
some  sixty  dramas  of  many  kinds,  varying  from  farcical 
comedy  of  manners  to  the  most  extreme  tragedy.  The 
comedies  of  manners  present  the  affairs  of  women,  and 
spice  their  lively  conversation  and  surprising  situations 
with  a  wit  that  often  reminds  one  of  the  Restoration ; 
indeed  they  "carry  the  development  of  comedy  nearly  to 
the  point  where  Wycherley  and  Congreve  began.  The 
tragi-comedies,  which  display  the  qualities  already 
noted  as  belonging  to  the  romances,  have  the  technical 
advantage  that  the  disentanglement  of  their  rapid  plots 
and  sub-plots  is  left  hanging  in  the  balance  until  the 
very  end.  The  happy  ending  to  tragic  entanglements 
won  a  favor  it  has  never  lost  on  the  English  stage,  and 
tragi-comedy  of  the  Fletcherian  type  continued  the  most 
popular  form  of  the  drama  until  Dryden. 

It  is  unnecessary  here  to  dwell  long  over  the  drama 
after  Shakespeare's  death.  Jonson,  Dekker,  Hey  wood, 
and  Webster  wrote  from  time  to  time,  and  Middleton 
devoted  his  versatile  talent  to  whatever  kind  of  play 
was  in  vogue,  now  rather  to  Websterian  tragedy  and 
Fletcherian  tragi-comedy  than  to  realistic  comedy. 
Yet,  in  collaboration  with  Rowley,  he  produced  the 
powerful  tragedy,  The  Changeling,  and  the  much- 
admired  tragi-comedy,  A  Fair  Quarrel.    After  Fletcher's 


n2        ®\)t  jFacts  about  £>ljato$peat* 

death  in  1625,  Massinger  took  his  place  as  leader  of  the 
stage,  and  his  work,  with  that  of  Ford  and  Shirley,  carry 
on  the  great  traditions  of  the  drama  to  the  very  end. 
A  host  of  minor  writers,  as  Brome,  D'Avenant,  Suckling, 
Cartwright,  offer  little  that  is  new ;  but  no  survey  of 
the  drama,  however  brief,  can  neglect  to  mention 
the  skilful  exposition,  admirable  psychology,  and 
sound  structural  principles  that  characterized  the  best  of 
Massinger's  many  plays,  the  unique  and  amazing  dra- 
matic genius  shown  in  Ford's  masterpieces,  The  Broken 
Heart  and  '  Tis  Pity  She's  a  Whore,  and  the  ingenuity  in 
plot,  adroitness  in  characterization,  and  genuine  poetic 
gifts  of  Shirley. 

Comedies  from  1616  to  1642  reveal  two  chief  in- 
fluences ;  they  are  realistic  and  satiric,  following 
Jonson,  or  they  are  light-hearted,  lively  combinations 
of  manners  and  intrigue,  after  Fletcher.  In  the  former 
class  are  Massinger's  two  great  comedies,  The  City 
Madam  and  A  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts.  To  the 
latter  class  belong  most  of  the  comedies  of  Shirley. 
Tragi-comedies  follow  Fletcher  with  the  variations 
due  to  the  authors'  ingenuity,  and  include  perhaps  the 
most  attractive  plays  of  Massinger  and  Shirley.  Trage- 
dies usually  mingle  lust,  devilish  intrigue,  physical 
horror,  after  the  fashion  of  Webster  and  Tourneur,  but 
now  often  with  romantic  variation  on  the  theme  of 
love,  and  a  technic  of  suspense  and  surprise  similar 
to  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  These  are  the  main  ten- 
dencies in  the  last  twenty  years  of  the  drama,  and 


pastoral  ana  Basque  113 

characterize  in  the  large  the  work  of  the  greater  men 
as  well  as  of  the  less.  Shakespeare's  influence  is  wide- 
spread, but  appears  incidentally  in  particular  scene, 
situation,  character,  or  phrase,  rather  than  as  affecting 
the  main  course  and  fashions  of  the  drama.  After 
the  publication  of  his  plays  in  1623,  this  incidental 
influence  increased,  and  is  distinctly  noticeable  in  the 
plays  of  Ford  and  Shirley. 

A  glance  must  suffice  for  two  dramatic  forms  that 
had  only  slight  connection  with  the  public  theaters, 
the  Pastoral  Play  and  the  Court  Masque.  Pastoral 
elements  are  found  in  many  early  entertainments 
and  in  the  plays  of  Lyly  and  Peele.  Later,  in  imitation 
of  Guarini's  II  Pastor  Fido,  attempts  were  made  to 
inaugurate  a  pastoral  drama,  presenting  a  full-fledged 
dramatic  exposition  of  the  golden  age.  Daniel's 
Queens  Arcadia  (1605)  and  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherd- 
ess (1609)  had  many  later  followers,  but  the  form  won 
no  permanent  hold  on  the  popular  taste.  Traces 
of  its  influence,  however,  may  often  be  seen,  as  in 
Shakespeare's  As  You  Like  It,  or  Beaumont  and  Fletch- 
er's Philaster.  The  masque,  originally  only  a  masquer- 
ade, soon  acquired  some  dramatic  accompaniment, 
and  in  the  court  of  James  I  developed  into  an  elaborate 
form  of  entertainment.  The  masked  dance  of  the 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  court  was  merely  the  focus 
for  dialogue,  elaborate  setting,  spectacle,  music,  and 
grotesque  dances  by  professionals.  These  shows, 
costing  vast  sums  for  staging,  costumes,  and  music, 
I 


n4        Qfyt  jfart*  about  £>t)afee$peare 

depended  for  their  success  mainly  on  the  architect  Inigo 
Jones,  but  in  some  degree  also  on  Ben  Jonson,  who  was 
the  creator  of  the  Court  Masque  as  a  literary  form. 
Such  expensive  spectacles  were  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  public  theater,  but  provoked  considerable  imita- 
tion, as  in  Shakespeare's  Tempest,  or  several  of  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher's  plays.  Later  Milton  immortalized 
the  form  in  Comus. 

The  most  hasty  review  of  the  Elizabethan  drama 
must  suggest  how  constantly  Shakespeare  responded  to 
its  prevailing  conditions.  There  are,  of  course,  great 
variations  in  the  signs  which  different  plays  offer 
of  contemporary  influence  and  peculiarity.  So  it  is 
with  most  of  his  fellow  dramatists.  Lear  and  Othello 
were  perhaps  written  within  the  same  year,  yet  Othello, 
in  its  unity,  its  technical  excellence,  and  its  depiction  of 
character,  is  the  most  modern  of  the  tragedies,  while 
Lear,  with  its  impossible  story,  its  horrors,  its  treatment 
of  madness,  its  likeness  to  the  chronicle  plays,  its  pro- 
longed passage  from  crisis  to  catastrophe,  in  its  very 
conception,  is  the  most  Elizabethan,  though  perhaps 
the  most  impressive  of  the  tragedies.  Twelfth  Night  is 
suited  to  any  stage,  but  Troilus  and  Cressida  and  Pericles 
are  hardly  conceivable  except  on  the  Elizabethan.  De- 
spite such  variations,  however,  Shakespeare's  relations 
to  the  contemporary  drama  were  manifestly  constant 
and  immediate.  If  it  was  rarely  a  question  with  him 
what  the  ancients  had  written,  it  was  always  a  question 
what  was  being  acted  and  what  was  successful  at  the 


grtjakespeare  anD  l^tsf  Contemporaries;   115 

moment.  His  own  growth  in  dramatic  power  goes  step 
by  step  with  the  rapid  and  varied  development  of  the 
drama,  and  the  measure  for  comparison  must  be,  not  by 
decades,  but  by  years  or  months. 

A  study  of  the  Elizabethan  drama  may  help  to  excuse 
some  of  the  faults  and  limitations  of  Shakespeare,  but 
it  also  enforces  his  merits.  Both  faults  and  merits 
are  often  to  be  understood  in  the  efforts  of  lesser  men 
to  do  what  he  did.  We  admire  his  triumphs  the  more 
as  we  consider  their  failures.  Yet  they  often  had 
admirable  success,  and  their  triumphs  as  well  as  his  are 
due  in  part  to  the  dramatic  conditions  which  gave  the 
freest  opportunity  for  individual  initiative  in  language, 
verse,  story,  and  construction.  Noble  bursts  of  poetry, 
richness  and  variety  of  life,  an  intense  interest  in  human 
nature,  comic  or  tragic  —  these  are  the  great  merits  of 
that  drama.  That  in  a  superlative  degree  they  are 
also  the  characteristics  of  Shakespeare  is  not  due  solely 
to  his  exceptional  genius,  but  to  the  fact  that  his  genius 
worked  in  a  favorable  environment. 


u6         X&tyt  jfacts  about  £>t)atopeare 


A  TYPICAL   SHAKESPEREAN   STAGE 
From  Albright's  Shaksperian  Stage 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  Elizabethan  Theater 

In  1576,  James  Burbage,  father  of  the  great  actor, 
Richard  Burbage,  and  himself  a  member  of  the  Earl 
of  Leicester's  company,  built  the  first  London  play- 
house, the  Theater  in  Shoreditch.  In  the  next  year  a 
second  playhouse,  the  Curtain,  was  erected  nearby, 
and  these  seem  to  have  remained  the  only  theaters 
until  1587-1588,  when  probably  the  Rose,  on  the  Bank- 
side,  was  built  by  Henslowe.  In  1599  Richard  and 
Cuthbert  Burbage,  after  some  difficulty  over  their 
lease,  demolished  the  old  Theater  and  used  the  timber 
for  the  Globe,  near  the  Rose,  on  the  Bankside.  The 
Swan,  another  theater,  had  been  built  there  in  1594, 
somewhat  to  the  west ;  and  in  1614  the  Hope  was 
erected  hard  by  the  old  Rose  and  the  new  Globe,  which 
in  1613  had  replaced  the  old  Globe.  Meantime  the 
Fortune  had  been  built  by  Henslowe  and  Alleyn  in 
1600  in  Golden  Lane  to  the  north  of  Cripplegate,  on 
the  model  of  the  Globe,  and  the  Red  Bull  was  erected 
in  the  upper  end  of  St.  John's  Street  about  1603-1607. 
These  were  all  public  theaters,  open  to  the  air,  built  of 
wood,  outside  the  city  limits  and  the  jurisdiction  of 

the  city  corporation. 

117 


n8        Ww  jFacts  about  ^atopeare 

Before  the  Theater,  plays  had  been  acted  in  various 
places  about  the  city,  and  especially  in  inn-yards,  some 
of  which  long  continued  to  be  used  for  dramatic  per- 
formances. At  an  early  date  also,  the  companies  of 
children  actors  connected  with  the  choirs  of  St.  Paul's 
and  the  Queen's  Chapel  had  given  public  performances, 
probably  indoors,  at  places  near  St.  Paul's  and  in  Black- 
friars.  When  the  Burbages  were  in  difficulties  about 
the  Theater,  they  had  leased  certain  rooms  in  the  dis- 
mantled monastery  of  Blackfriars,  but  had  then  re- 
leased these  to  a  company  of  children  which  acted 
there  for  some  years.  La  1608  the  Burbages  regained 
possession  of  this  property,  and  Shakespeare's  com- 
pany began  acting  there.  This  Blackfriars  theater 
was  known  as  a  private  theater  in  order  to  avoid  the  ap- 
plication of  certain  statutes  directed  against  the  public 
theaters,  but  it  differed  from  them  merely  in  being  in- 
doors, with  artificial  lights,  and  higher  prices.  It  was 
used  by  Shakespeare's  company  as  a  winter  theater, 
while  the  Globe  served  for  summer  performances,  and 
it  was  the  model  for  various  other  private  theaters, 
two  of  which  survived  the  Protectorate  and  became  in 
turn  the  models  for  the  Restoration  Theater.  Drury 
Lane  and  Covent  Garden,  indeed,  trace  their  ancestry 
back  directly  to  the  Blackfriars  through  the  Cockpit 
and  the  Salisbury  Court  playhouses. 

The  companies  of  actors  which  occupied  these 
theaters  were  cooperative  organizations.  Eight  or  ten 
actors  formed  a  company,  leased  a  theater,  hired  super- 


Companies  of  Actors  119 

numeraries,  bought  plays,  and  shared  in  the  profits. 
In  Elizabeth's  reign  they  secured  a  legal  position  by 
obtaining  a  license  from  some  nobleman,  and  so  were 
known  as  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  men,  Lord  Admiral's 
men,  and  so  on.  On  the  accession  of  James  I,  the  lead- 
ing London  companies  were  taken  directly  under 
patronage  of  members  of  the  royal  family.  During 
Shakespeare's  time  there  were  innumerable  companies, 
but  the  tendency  was  for  the  best  actors  to  become 
associated  in  a  few  companies,  and  for  each  company 
to  keep  to  a  particular  theater ;  so  that  at  the  acces- 
sion of  James  I,  there  were  only  five  adult  companies  in 
London  with  permanent  theaters.  The  best  companies 
were  frequently  employed  to  act  at  court,  and  during 
the  summer  or  when  the  plague  was  raging  in  London, 
they  often  toured  the  country.  The  children's  com- 
panies flourished  from  time  to  time,  and  especially 
from  1599-1607  they  were,  as  we  learn  from  Hamlet, 
formidable  rivals  of  the  men. 

The  history  of  the  adult  companies  shows  the  growth 
of  two  distinct  interests,  that  of  Henslowe  and  Alleyn, 
and  that  of  the  Burbages.  Henslowe,  whose  diary  is 
one  of  the  chief  documents  for  the  history  of  the 
theater,  built  the  Rose,  and  in  partnership  with  his 
son-in-law,  the  famous  actor  Alleyn,  controlled  the 
Fortune  and  the  Hope,  and  the  companies  known  as 
the  Admiral's  and  the  Earl  of  Worcester's  men,  and 
later  on  the  Queen's  and  the  Prince's  men.  The  Bur- 
bages owned  the  Theater,  the  Globe,  and  the  Blackfriars, 


no        tH^e  jFacts  atjout  £>tjatopeare 

and  were  in  control  of  Shakespeare's  company.  This 
company,  at  first  the  Earl  of  Leicester's  men,  was  known 
by  the  names  of  its  various  patrons,  Strange's,  Derby's, 
Hunsdon's,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain's,  until  in  1603 
it  became  the  King's  men.  For  a  short  time,  as  Lord 
Strange's  men,  it  acted  at  the  Rose,  and  apparently 
later  at  the  playhouse  in  Newington  Butts,  but  its 
regular  theaters  were  the  Theater,  the  Globe,  and 
Blackfriars.  With  this  company  Shakespeare  was 
connected  from  the  beginning,  and  he  aided  in  making 
it  the  chief  London  company.  For  a  time,  Alleyn  and 
the  Admiral's  men  were  its  close  rivals,  but  even  before 
the  accession  of  James  I,  Shakespeare  and  Burbage 
had  given  it  a  supremacy  that  it  maintained  to  the 
closing  of  the  theaters. 

There  are  various  pictures  of  the  exterior  of  Eliza- 
bethan theaters  in  the  contemporary  maps  or  views  of 
London,  the  best  representation  of  the  four  Bankside 
theaters  being  the  engraving  of  Hollar  printed  in  the 
Tudor  edition  of  Twelfth  Night.  This  was  first  pub- 
lished in  Londinopolis,  1657,  but  represents  the  Bank- 
side  as  it  was  about  1620.  Four  pictures  of  interiors 
have  been  preserved,  that  from  Kirkman's  Drolls,  those 
from  the  title-pages  of  Roxana  and  Messalina,  and  the 
DeWitt  drawing  of  the  Swan,  reproduced  in  the  Tudor 
Shakespeare,  1  Henry  VI.  The  drawing  from  Kirk- 
man's Drolls  is  usually  known  as  the  Red  Bull  stage, 
but  it  was  not  issued  until  1679,  and  does  not  seem 
to   have   anything   to   do  with  the  Red  Bull  or  with 


public  theaters  121 

any  other  regular  theater.  The  Messalina  and  Roxana 
pictures  are  small,  and  both  show  a  rear  curtain  and  a 
projecting  stage.  The  DeWitt  drawing  was  done  from 
hearsay  evidence,  is  inaccurate  in  details,  and  repre- 
sents a  theater  with  a  movable  stage,  probably  not 
long  regularly  used  for  plays ;  it  gives  little  idea  of 
the  stage,  but  does  afford  a  good  general  notion  of  the 
interior  of  a  public  theater.  The  contract  for  the  For- 
tune theater,  built  on  the  mcdel  of  the  Globe,  except 
that  it  was  square  instead  of  octagonal,  has  been  pre- 
served and  enables  us  to  complete  this  view  of  the 
interior  in  detail. 

The  public  theaters  were  usually  round,  or  nearly 
round,  wooden  buildings  of  three  stories.  These 
stories  were  occupied  by  tiers  of  galleries  encircling  the 
pit,  which  was  open  to  the  air.  The  stage  projected 
halfway  into  the  pit,  and  was  provided  with  dressing 
rooms  in  the  rear,  and  a  protecting  roof  overhead, 
supported  in  some  cases  by  pillars.  At  the  top  was 
the  'hut',  a  room  used  to  provide  apparatus  for  raising 
and  lowering  persons  or  properties  from  the  stage. 
Light  when  needed  was  provided  by  torches.  Admis- 
sion to  standing  room  in  the  pit  was  usually  only  a 
penny,  but  seats  in  the  gallery  or  boxes  or  on  the  stage 
cost  much  more,  rising  as  high  as  half  a  crown.  Per- 
formances were  given  on  every  fair  day  except  Sunday, 
and  a  flag  flying  from  the  hut  indicated  that  a  play 
was  to  be  performed.  Some  of  the  public  playhouses 
were  used  for  acrobats,  fencing,  or  even  bear-baiting 


i23        tEtje  ifactsi  about  £>tjatepeare 

as  well  as  for  plays;  but  the  better  theaters,  as  the 
Globe  and  Fortune,  seem  to  have  been  limited  to  dra- 
matic performances. 

The  size  and  arrangement  of  the  stage  doubtless 
varied  somewhat  with  the  different  theaters,  and  con- 
siderable changes  seem  to  have  been  introduced  by 
the  indoor  private  theaters.  But  the  Curtain  was 
used  from  1577  to  1642,  some  new  theaters  were 
modeled  closely  on  the  old,  and  the  same  plays  were 
acted  on  different  stages,  so  it  is  apparent  that  in  all 
the  stage  was  the  same  in  its  main  features.  For  clear- 
ness these  may  be  again  enumerated.  The  stage 
was  a  platform  projecting  into  the  pit,  open  on  three 
sides,  and  without  any  front  curtain.  In  the  rear 
were  two  doors,  and  between  them,  an  alcove,  or  inner 
stage,  separated  from  the  front  stage  by  curtains. 
Above  the  inner  stage  was  a  gallery,  also  provided  with 
curtains,  and  over  the  doors  were  windows  or  balconies. 
The  arrangement  of  doors,  inner  stage,  gallery,  and 
curtain  may  have  varied  somewhat,  but  the  essential 
elements  are  a  curtained  space  at  the  rear,  and  a  gallery 
above.  Trap-doors  were  also  provided,  and  the  hut 
overhead  supplied  the  machinery  for  ascents  and 
descents  of  gods  and  goddesses. 

Our  diagram  for  the  ground  floor  of  the  Fortune 
shows  a  square-cornered  stage  with  doors  flat  on  the 
rear,  while  the  perspective  drawing  from  Dr.  Albright's 
Shaksperian  Stage  shows  a  tapering  stage,  as  in  the 
Messalina  picture,  with  doors  on  the  bias.     Some  stages 


Ws>t  ifortune  fEtjeater 


123 


1 

Tiring  Room      }     Inner  Stage                Tiring  Room 
1                              l 

Door            Curtain             Door 

Outer  Stage 

■                              ■ 
Pillar                           Pillar 

0 

2r 

Pit 

Gallery 

Gallery 

GROUND    PLAN    OF  THE   FORTUNE  THEATER 

Dimensions:  80  ft.  square  on  the  outside;  55  ft.  square  on  the  inside 
the  stage  4-3  ft.  wide  and  extending  to  the  middle  of  the  pit. 


124        XKty  jFact*  about  ^tjafcespeare 

may  have  had  rounded  corners  with  doors  in  the  side. 
The  pillars  were  not  necessary  in  the  private  theaters ; 
or  in  some  public  houses  where  other  means  were  found 
for  supporting  the  roof. 

The  performance  of  a  play  differed  in  many  ways 
from  one  to-day.  There  was  no  scenery  and  there  were 
no  women  actors.  Though  scenes  were  used  in  court 
performances  as  early  as  1604,  they  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  employed  by  the  professional  companies  to  any 
extent  until  after  the  Restoration.  Female  parts  were 
taken  by  boys,  and,  except  in  plays  acted  by  the  chil- 
dren's companies,  there  were  rarely  more  than  two  im- 
portant female  characters  in  a  play.  Though  without 
scenery,  the  Elizabethan  stage  was  by  no  means  devoid 
of  spectacle.  Processions,  battles,  all  kinds  of  mytho- 
logical beings,  ascents  to  heaven,  descents  to  hell,  fire- 
works, and  elaborate  properties,  were  employed. 
Numerous  contemporary  plays  indicate  that  neither  the 
fairyland  of  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  nor  the  mag- 
nificent court  of  Henry  VIII,  was  devised  without  an 
eye  to  the  resources  of  the  stage.  Large  sums  of  money 
were  lavished  on  costumes,  the  cost  of  a  coat  often 
exceeding  the  price  paid  an  author  for  a  play.  Cos- 
tume was  anachronistic ;  Cleopatra  was  impersonated 
by  a  boy  in  stays  and  farthingale;  and  Caesar,  prob- 
ably by  Burbage,  in  a  costume  much  like  that  worn 
by  the  Earl  of  Essex.  Some  attention,  however,  was 
paid  to  appropriateness.  Shepherds  were  clothed  in 
white,   hunters   in   green;    and   doubtless   mermaids, 


£>tage  ^presentation  125 

fairies,  Venuses,  and  satyrs  were  given  as  appropriate 
a  dress  as  fancy  could  devise.  The  action  of  a  play 
seems  usually  to  have  been  completed  in  two  hours. 
There  was  sometimes  music  between  the  acts,  but 
there  were  no  long  waits,  and  little  stage  business. 

The  peculiarities  in  the  presentation  of  a  play  due 
to  the  arrangement  of  the  stage  were  considerable,  and 
have  been  the  subject  of  much  discussion  and  mis- 
understanding among  investigators.  There  is,  how- 
ever, no  doubt  that  the  action  was  largely  on  the  front 
stage,  and  that  most  of  the  scenes,  at  least  in  Shake- 
speare's lifetime,  were  designed  for  presentation  on  this 
projecting  platform.  Since  there  was  no  drop-curtain, 
actors  had  some  distance  to  traverse,  on  entrances  and 
exits,  between  the  doors  and  the  front.  At  the  end  of  a 
scene  or  a  play,  all  must  retire,  and  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  must  be  carried  out.  Hence  a  tragedy  often 
ends  with  a  funeral  procession,  a  comedy  with  a  dance. 
The  indications  of  scene  supplied  by  modern  editors 
for  Shakespeare's  plays  help  to  visualize  a  modern 
presentation,  but  are  misleading  as  to  Shakespeare's 
intentions  or  an  Elizabethan  performance.  The  ma- 
jority of  scenes  in  his  plays  differ  strikingly  from  those 
in  a  modern  play  in  that  they  offer  no  hints  as  to  the 
exact  locality.  Often  it  is  not  clear  from  the  text 
whether  the  scene  is  conceived  as  indoors  or  outdoors, 
in  the  palace,  or  the  courtyard,  or  before  the  entrance. 
Even  when  the  scene  is  presumably  within  a  room, 
there  is  often  no  indication  of  the  nature  of  the  furnish- 


i26        tEtje  jFacts  about  £^afee$peare 

ings,  never  any  of  the  elaborate  attention  to  details 
of  setting,  such  as  we  find  in  a  play  by  Pinero  or  Shaw. 
Sometimes  placards  were  hung  up  indicating  the  scene 
of  a  play,  but  apparently  these  merely  gave  the  general 
scene,  as  "Venice"  or  "Verona,"  and  did  not  often 
designate  localities  more  closely.  In  fact  the  majority 
of  the  scenes  were  probably  written  with  no  precise 
conception  of  their  setting.  They  were  written  to  be 
acted  on  a  front  stage,  bare  of  scenery,  projecting  out 
into  the  audience.  This  did  not  represent  a  particular 
locality,  but  rather  any  locality  whatever. 

The  inner  stage  and  the  gallery  above,  and  to  some 
extent  the  doors  and  the  windows,  were  used  to  indi- 
cate specific  localities  when  these  were  necessary. 
The  gallery  represented  the  wall  of  a  town,  an  upper 
story  of  a  house,  or  any  elevated  locality.  The  doors 
represented  doors  to  houses  or  gates  to  a  city,  and  the 
windows  or  balconies  over  them  were  often  used  for 
the  windows  of  the  houses.  The  inner  stage  was  used 
in  various  ways  to  indicate  a  specific  locality  requiring 
properties,  and  this  use  apparently  increased  as  time 
went  on,  and  especially  in  the  indoor,  artificially  lighted 
private  theaters.  In  any  case,  however,  when  the  cur- 
tains were  opened,  the  inner  stage  became  a  part  of 
the  main  stage,  and  while  action  might  take  place 
there,  it  might  also  serve  as  a  background  for  action 
proceeding  in  the  front.  Properties  could  be  brought 
on  and  off  the  inner  stage,  behind  the  closed  curtains, 
hence  large  properties  were  confined  to  its  precincts. 


3|nner  £>tage  127 

Furniture,  as  chairs,  tables,  or  even  beds,  could,  how- 
ever, be  pushed  or  carried  out  from  the  inner  to  the 
outer  stage.  A  play  might  be  given  on  the  front 
stage  without  using  the  curtained  recess  at  all,  but 
numerous  references  to  curtains  make  it  clear  that  the 
inner  stage  was  used  fromthe  early  days  of  the  theater. 
The  uses  of  the  inner  stage  have  been  much  dis- 
cussed and  are  still  in  dispute,  but  they  may  be  sum- 
marized briefly.  First,  the  inner  stage  was  used  for  a 
specific,  restricted,  and  usually  propertied  locality  —  a 
cave,  a  study,  a  shop,  a  prison.  Second,  the  inner 
stage  was  used  for  scenes  requiring  discovery  or  tableaux. 
Numerous  stage  directions  indicate  the  drawing  of  the 
curtains  to  present  a  scene  set  on  the  inner  stage,  as 
Bethsabe  at  her  bath,  Friar  Bungay  in  bed  with  his 
magical  apparatus  about  him,  Ferdinand  and  Miranda 
playing  chess.  Third,  the  use  of  the  inner  stage  was 
extended  so  that  it  represented  any  propertied  back- 
ground, especially  for  scenes  in  a  forest,  church,  or 
temple.  In  /Is  You  Like  It,  for  example,  the  last  four 
acts  are  located  in  the  Forest  of  Arden.  "This  is  the 
Forest  of  Arden,"  says  Rosalind  as  soon  as  she  arrives 
there ;  and  even  before  this,  Duke  senior  alludes  to 
"these  woods,"  and  later  we  learn  that  there  are  prac- 
ticable trees  on  which  Orlando  hangs  his  verses.  The 
forest  setting,  consisting  of  trees  and  rocks,  was  placed  on 
the  inner  stage  and  served  to  give  a  scenic  background. 
Of  course,  different  places  in  the  forest  are  to  be  pre- 
sumed,  but   one  forest   background   would    be   suffi- 


i28        W$t  ifactsf  about  £>tiakefltpeare 

cient  for  all.  In  the  course  of  the  four  acts,  however, 
there  are  three  scenes  (II.  ii ;  II.  iii ;  III.  i)  that  are 
not  in  the  forest,  but  at  unspecified  and  unpropertied 
places  about  the  palace  and  Oliver's  house.  For  these 
scenes  the  curtain  would  be  closed,  shutting  off  the 
forest  background  and  transferring  the  spectators  to 
the  unspecified  localities  of  Act  I,  i.e.,  to  the  bare  front 
stage.  Fourth.  An  extension  of  this  last  use  made  it 
possible  to  employ  the  curtain  to  indicate  change  of 
scene.  Several  scenes,  where  no  heavy  properties  were 
required,  might  succeed  one  another  on  the  front  stage 
with  the  curtains  closed;  but  the  opening  of  the  cur- 
tains would  reveal  a  special  background  and  a  manifest 
change  of  scene.  One  instance  of  this  use  of  the  inner 
stage  is  seen  in  the  immediate  change  from  an  out- 
door to  an  indoor  scene,  or  vice  versa.  The  scene  is  in 
the  street,  i.e.,  on  the  front  stage ;  the  person  knocks 
at  one  of  the  doors  and  is  admitted  to  a  house;  when 
he  reappears,  it  is  through  the  inner  stage,  the  curtains 
of  which  have  been  drawn,  disclosing  the  setting  of  a 
room.  Or  this  process  is  reversed.  In  A  Yorkshire 
Tragedy,  there  is  an  interesting  case  of  such  an  alter- 
nation from  indoors  to  outdoors,  with  one  character 
remaining  on  the  stage  all  of  the  time.  A  more  ex- 
tensive use  of  this  "alternation"  could  be  employed  to 
indicate  marked  changes  of  place.  As  long  as  the 
action  remains  in  Venice,  the  bare  front  stage  will  do, 
but  a  transfer  to  Portia's  house  at  Belmont  can  be 
made  by  means  of  the  curtains  and  the  inner  stage. 


6t)olutton  of  tlje  Greater  129 

In  the  later  plays  at  the  private  theaters  this  use  of  the 
inner  stage,  then  better  lighted,  seems  to  have  increased, 
especially  in  the  change  from  a  street  or  general  hall 
to  special  apartments. 

These  uses  of  the  inner  stage,  together  with  that  of 
the  upper  stage  or  gallery,  gave  a  chance  for  consider- 
able variety  in  the  action,  and  rendered  the  rapid  succes- 
sion of  scenes  less  bewildering  than  one  would  at  first 
suppose.  Shakespeare's  stage  was  the  outcome  of  the 
peculiar  conditions  of  acting  by  professionals  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  but  it  was  also  a  natural  step  in  the 
evolution  from  the  medieval  to  the  modern  stage. 
On  the  medieval  stage  there  was  a  neutral  place  or 
platea  and  special  localized  and  propertied  places  called 
sedes,  damns,  hca.  On  the  Elizabethan  stage  the  front 
stage  is  the  platea,  the  inner  and  upper  stages  the  domus 
or  loca.  In  the  Restoration  theater  the  scenery  was 
placed  on  the  inner  stage  and  shut  off  from  the  outer 
stage  by  a  curtain.  With  the  use  of  scenery,  the  inner 
stage  became  more  important,  and  the  projecting  apron 
of  the  front  stage  was  gradually  cut  down.  The  pro- 
scenium doors  in  front  of  the  curtain  long  survived 
their  original  use  as  entrances,  but,  as  a  rule,  they 
have  now  finally  disappeared  with  the  front  stage. 
The  modern  picture-frame  stage  of  to-day  is  the  evo- 
lution of  the  inner  stage  of  the  Elizabethans.  Simi- 
larly the  method  of  stage  presentation  has  changed 
only  gradually  from  Shakespeare's  day  to  ours.  The 
alternation  from  outer  to  inner  stage  was  very  common 


i3o        tElje  j?act$  about  Shakespeare 

in  the  Restoration  theaters,  where  flat  scenes  were  used 
instead  of  a  curtain,  and  it  may  still  be  seen  in  the  pro- 
duction of  melodrama  or  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  A 
painted  drop  shuts  off  a  few  feet  of  the  stage,  which 
becomes  a  street  or  a  hall,  while  properties  and  scenery 
are  being  arranged  in  the  rear.  When  the  drop  goes 
up,  we  pass  from  the  street  or  the  court  of  the  wicked 
Duke  to  the  Forest  of  Arden,  just  as  the  Elizabethans 
did. 

The  Elizabethan  stage  affected  Shakespeare's  dra- 
matic art  in  many  ways.  The  absence  of  scenery,  of 
women  actors,  and  of  a  front  curtain,  the  use  of  a  bare 
stage  that  served  for  neutral  or  unspecified  localities, 
naturally  influenced  the  composition  of  every  play. 
But  the  theatrical  presentation  was  by  no  means  as 
crude  or  as  medieval  as  these  differences  from  modern 
practice  seem  to  indicate.  The  intimacy  established 
between  actors  and  audience  by  the  projecting  stage, 
the  rapidity  of  action  hastened  by  the  lack  of  scenery 
or  furniture,  the  possibilities  of  rapid  changes  of  scene 
rendered  intelligible  by  the  use  of  the  inner  stage, 
were  all  manifest  advantages  in  encouraging  dramatic 
invention.  The  traditions  formed  in  this  theater  for 
the  presentation  of  Hamlet,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  the 
other  plays,  were  handed  on  from  Shakespeare  and 
Burbage  to  Lowin  and  Taylor,  to  Betterton,  Cibber, 
and  Garrick,  down  to  the  present  day ;  and  have  per- 
haps been  less  revolutionized  by  scenery  and  electric 
lights  than  we  might  imagine. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  Text  of  Shakespeare 

The  main  difficulties  that  stand  in  the  way  of  deter- 
mining the  actual  form  in  which  Shakespeare  left  his 
plays  are  due,  first,  to  the  total  absence  of  manuscripts, 
and,  secondly,  to  the  fact  that  he,  like  his  contemporaries, 
regarded  dramatic  literature  as  material  for  perform- 
ance on  the  stage,  not  as  something  to  be  read  in  the 
library.  The  most  obvious  evidence  of  this  lies  in  his 
having  himself  issued  with  every  appearance  of  per- 
sonal attention  his  poems  of  Venus  and  Adonis  and 
Lucrece,  while  he  permitted  his  plays  to  find  their  way 
into  print  without  any  trace  of  supervision  and,  in 
some  cases,  apparently  without  his  consent.  When 
the  author  sold  a  play  to  the  theatrical  company  which 
was  to  perform  it,  he  appears  to  have  regarded  himself 
as  having  no  longer  any  rights  in  it ;  and  when  a  play 
was  published,  we  are  in  general  justified  in  supposing 
either  that  it  had  been  obtained  surreptitiously,  or  that 
it  had  been  disposed  of  by  the  company.  Exceptions 
to  this  begin  to  appear  in  the  first  half  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  notably  in  the  case  of  Heywood,  who 
defended  his  action  on  the  plea  of  protecting  the  text 
from  mutilation,  and  in  that  of  Ben  Jonson,  who  issued 
131 


132        Wtyt  jFacts  about  g>t)afee£peare 

in  1616,  in  the  face  of  ridicule  for  his  presumption,  a 
folio  volume  of  his  "Works."  But,  though  Shake- 
speare is  reported  to  have  felt  annoyance  at  the  pirating 
of  his  productions,  there  is  no  evidence  of  his  having 
been  led  to  protect  himself  or  the  integrity  of  his  writ- 
ings by  departing  from  the  usual  practice  in  his  pro- 
fession. 

Among  the  various  documents  which  make  us  aware 
of  this  situation,  so  general  then,  but  so  strongly  in 
contrast  with  modern  methods,  three  explicit  state- 
ments by  Heywood  are  so  illuminating  that  they 
deserve  quotation.  One  occurs  in  the  preface  to  his 
Rape  of  Lucrece,  1630 : 

To  the  Reader.  —  It  hath  beene  no  custome  in  mee  of  all 
other  men  (courteous  Reader)  to  commit  my  plaies  to  the 
presse :  the  reason  though  some  may  attribute  to  my  owne 
insufficiencie,  I  had  rather  subscribe  in  that  to  their  seuare 
censure  then  by  seeking  to  auoide  the  imputation  of  weaknea 
to  incurre  greater  suspition  of  honestie :  for  though  some 
haue  vsed  a  double  sale  of  their  labours,  first  to  the  Stage, 
and  after  to  the  presse,  For  my  owne  part  I  heere  proclaime 
my  selfe  euer  f aithfull  in  the  first,  and  neuer  guiltie  of  the  last : 
yet  since  some  of  my  plaies  haue  (vnknowne  to  me,  and  with- 
out any  of  my  direction)  accidentally  come  into  the  Printers 
hands,  and  therefore  so  corrupt  and  mangled,  (coppied  only 
by  the  eare)  that  I  have  bin  as  vnable  to  know  them,  as 
ashamed  to  chalenge  them,  This  therefore,  I  was  the  will- 
inger  to  furnish  out  in  his  natiue  habit :  first  being  by  con- 
sent, next  because  the  rest  haue  beene  so  wronged  in  being 
publisht  in  such  sauadge  and  ragged  ornaments :  accept 
it  courteous  Gentlemen,  and  prooue  as  fauorable  Readers 
as  we  haue  found  you  gratious  Auditors.     Yours  T.  H. 


W$z  Higtjt  to  IJDriM  133 

The  second  is  in  Hey  wood's  Pleasant  Dialogues  and 
Dramas,  1637,  the  prologue  to  //  you  know  not  me, 
you  know  no  bodie;  Or,  The  troubles  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
It  is  as  follows : 

A  Prologve  to  the  Play  of  Queene  Elizabeth  as  it  was  last 
revived  at  the  Cock-pit,  in  which  the  Author  taxeth  [the  most 
corrupted  copy  now  imprinted,  which  was  published  without 
his  consent. 

Prologue 
Playes  have  a  fate  in  their  conception  lent, 
Some  so  short  liv'd,  no  sooner  shew'd  than  spent ; 
But  borne  to-day,  to  morrow  buried,  and 
Though  taught  to  speake,  neither  to  goe  nor  stand. 
This  :  (by  what  fate  I  know  not)  sure  no  merit, 
That  it  disclaimes,  may  for  the  age  inherit. 
Writing  'bove  one  and  twenty :  but  ill  nurst, 
And  yet  receiv'd  as  well  perform'd  at  first, 
Grac't  and  frequented,  for  the  cradle  age, 
Did  throng  the  Seates,  the  Boxes,  and  the  Stage 
So  much  :  that  some  by  Stenography  drew 
The  plot :  put  it  in  print :  (scarce  one  word  trew :) 
And  in  that  lamenesse  it  hath  limp't  so  long, 
The  Author  now  to  vindicate  that  wrong 
Hath  tooke  the  paines,  upright  upon  its  feete 
To  teache  it  walke,  so  please  you  sit,  and  see't. 

The  third  passage  occurs  in  the  address  to  the  reader 
prefixed  to  The  English  Traveller,  1633 : 

True  it  is  that  my  plays  are  not  exposed  to  the  world  in 
volumes,  to  bear  the  titles  of  Works  (as  others).  One  reason 
is  that  many  of  them  by  shifting  and  changing  of  companies 
have  been  negligently  lost ;  others  of  them  are  still  retained 
in  the  hands  of  some  actors  who  think  it  against  their  peculiar 


134        ®ty  jfacts  about  £>t)atepeare 

profit  to  have  them  come  in  print ;  and  a  third  that  it  waa 
never  any  great  ambition  in  me  in  this  kind  to  be  volumi- 
nously read. 

From  these  passages  we  gather  that  Heywood  con- 
sidered it  dishonest  to  sell  the  same  play  to  the  stage 
and  to  the  press ;  that  some  of  his  plays  were  stolen 
through  stenographic  reports  taken  in  the  theater  and 
were  printed  in  corrupt  forms ;  that,  in  order  to  coun- 
teract this,  he  obtained  the  consent  of  the  theatrical 
owners  to  his  publication  of  a  correct  edition ;  that 
some  actors  considered  the  printing  of  plays  against  their 
interest  (presumably  because  they  thought  that  if  a 
man  could  read  a  play,  he  would  not  care  to  see  it 
acted) ;  and  that  many  plays  were  lost  through 
negligence  and  the  changes  in  the  theatrical  com- 
panies. That  we  are  here  dealing  with  the  condi- 
tions of  Shakespeare's  time  is  clear  enough,  since  the 
edition  of  //  you  know  not  me  on  which  Heywood 
casts  reflections  was  published  in  1605,  and  in  1604 
Marston  supplies  corroboration  in  the  preface  to  his 
Malcontent : 

I  would  fain  leave  the  paper ;  only  one  thing  afflicts  me,  to 
think  that  scenes,  invented  merely  to  be  spoken,  should  be  en- 
forcively  published  to  be  read,  and  that  the  least  hurt  I  can 
receive  is  to  do  myself  the  wrong.  But  since  others  otherwise 
would  do  me  more,  the  least  inconvenience  is  to  be  accepted. 
I  have  myself,  therefore,  set  forth  this  comedy ;  but  so,  that 
my  enforced  absence  must  much  rely  upon  the  printer's  dis- 
cretion :  but  I  shall  entreat  slight  errors  in  orthography  may  be 
as  slightly  overpassed,  and  that  the  unhandsome  shape  which 


pirateD  Ctutiong  135 

this  trifle  in  reading  presents,  may  be  pardoned  for  the  pleasure 
it  once  afforded  you  when  it  was  presented  with  the  soul  of 
lively  action. 

The  only  form  in  which  any  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
found  their  way  into  print  during  his  lifetime  wTas  that 
of  small  pamphlets,  called  Quartos,  which  were  sold  at 
sixpence  each.1  In  the  case  of  five  of  these  there  is 
general  agreement  that  they  came  to  the  press  by 
the  surreptitious  method  of  reporting  described  by 
Heywood :  the  first  Quarto  versions  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  Henry  V,  The  Merry  Wives,  Hamlet,  and  Pericles. 
All  of  these  bear  clear  traces  of  the  effects  of  such 
mutilation  as  would  naturally  result  from  the  attempt 
to  write  down  the  dialogue  during  the  performance, 
and  patch  up  the  gaps  later.  The  first  Quartos  of 
Richard  III  and  King  Lear,  though  much  superior  to 
the  five  mentioned,  yet  contain  so  many  variants  from 
the  text  of  the  Folio  which  seem  to  be  due  to  mistakes 
of  the  ear  and  to  slips  of  memory  on  the  part  of  the 
actors,  that  probably  they  should  also  be  included  in  the 
list  of  those  surreptitiously  obtained. 

Redress  for  such  pirating  as  is  implied  in  these  pub- 
lications was  difficult  on  account  of  the  absence  of  a 
law  of  copyright.  The  chief  pieces  of  legislation 
affecting  the  book  trade  were  the  law  of  licensing  and 
the  charter  of  the  Stationers'  Company.  According 
to  the  first,  all  books,  with  a  few  exceptions,  such  as 
academic  publications,  had  to  be  licensed  before  publi- 

1  For  facsimile  reproductions  see  Bibliography,  Appendix  D. 


136        1&\)t  jFaettf  about  g^atepeare 

cation  by  the  Bishop  of  London  or  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  This  was  an  unworkable  provision,  and 
in  fact  the  responsibility  for  all  books  not  likely  to 
raise  political  or  theological  controversy  was  left  to 
the  Stationers'  Company.  This  close  corporation  of 
printers  and  publishers  exercised  its  powers  for  the  pro- 
tection of  its  members  rather  than  of  authors.  A 
publisher  wishing  to  establish  a  monopoly  in  a  book 
he  had  acquired  entered  it  on  the  Stationers'  Register, 
paying  a  fee  of  sixpence,  and  was  thereby  protected 
against  piracy.  When  the  copy  so  registered  was  im- 
properly acquired,  the  state  of  the  case  is  not  so  clear. 
At  times  the  officials  showed  hesitation  about  register- 
ing a  book  until  the  applicant  "hath  gotten  sufficient 
authoritye  for  yt,"  and  As  You  Like  It,  for  example, 
appears  in  the  Register  only  "to  be  staied,"  which  it 
was  until  the  publication  of  the  first  Folio.  Further, 
the  pirated  Romeo  and  Juliet  and  Henry  V  were  never 
entered  at  all ;  the  pirated  Hamlet  and  Pericles  were 
entered,  but  to  other  publishers,  who  in  the  case  of 
Hamlet  brought  out  a  more  correct  text  in  the  follow- 
ing year;  the  pirated  Merry  Wives  was  transferred 
from  one  publisher  to  another  on  the  day  of  entry,  and 
actually  issued  by  the  second.  Thus  this  group  of 
plays  does  not  support  the  view  that  the  Stationers' 
Company  stood  ready  to  give  perpetual  copyright  to 
their  members  even  for  obviously  stolen  goods.  It  is 
to  be  noted,  too,  that  the  previous  publication  of  these 
surreptitious  copies  formed  no  hindrance  to  the  later 


publisher'*  Copprigljt  137 

issue  of  an  authentic  copy.  The  second  Quarto  of 
Hamlet,  printed  from  a  complete  manuscript,  fol- 
lowed, as  has  been  said,  the  first  the  next  year,  and 
the  same  thing  happened  in  the  case  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  great  majority  of  the  Quartos 
printed  from  playhouse  copies  of  the  plays  were  regu- 
larly entered,  and  the  rights  of  the  original  publisher 
preserved  to  him.  The  appearance  of  groups  of  plays 
in  the  market  following  interference  with  theatrical 
activity  such  as  came  from  the  plague  in  1594,  from  the 
breaking  up  of  companies,  or  from  Puritan  attempts  at 
restriction,  confirm  the  belief  that  these  better  Quartos 
were  honorably  acquired  by  the  publishers  from  the 
companies  owning  them,  when  the  actors  thought  that 
there  was  more  to  gain  than  to  lose  by  giving  them  to 
the  press. 

The  accompanying  "  Table  of  Quarto  Editions " 
gives  the  names  of  all  the  Shakespearean  plays  issued 
in  this  form  before  the  publication  of  the  collected 
edition  in  1623,  known  as  the  First  Folio.  In  the 
cases  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  1  Henry  IV,  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  Merchant  of  Venice,  Much  Ado,  A  Midsummer- 
Night's  Dream,  and  Richard  II,  a  Quarto,  usually  the 
most  recent,  provided  the  text  from  which  the  version  in 
the  Folio  was  printed.  Hence,  though  in  several  cases 
the  copy  of  the  Quarto  thus  employed  seems  to  have 
been  one  used  by  the  actors  and  containing  corrections 
of  some  value,  the   extant   Quarto   rather   than   the 


138        Gftje  ifacttf  about  ^>ljatopeare 


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mo        tEtje  jFaets  about  £>tyake0peare 

Folio  is  the  prime  authority  for  the  text  to-day. 
The  same  is  true  of  Titus  Andronicus,  except  that  in 
this  case  the  Folio  restores  from  some  manuscript 
source  a  scene  which  had  been  dropped  from  the 
Quarto.  If,  as  some  hold,  the  Folio  texts  of  Richard 
III  and  King  Lear  were  printed  from  Quartos,  there 
must  have  been  available  also  a  manuscript  version, 
which  is  so  heavily  drawn  upon  that  the  Folio  text 
virtually  represents  an  independent  source,  as  it  does 
in  the  case  of  four  of  the  five  plays  acknowledged  to 
be  due  to  surreptitious  reporting.  Pericles,  the  fifth  of 
these,  was  first  admitted  to  the  collected  works  in  the 
third  Folio,  and  is  the  only  "reported"  text  forming 
our  sole  authority.1 

1  In  the  table  of  Quarto  editions  may  be  noted  four  entries 
with  the  words  "or  1619"  added  to  the  date  which  appears 
on  the  title-page.  These  four  plays,  the  Roberts  Quartos  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  and  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream 
of  1600,  the  third  Quarto  of  Henry  V,  1608,  the  second  Quarto 
of  King  Lear,  1608,  along  with  the  1619  Quartos  of  The  Merry 
Wives  and  Pericles,  an  undated  Quarto  of  The  Whole  Conten- 
tion (the  earlier  form  of  2  and  8  Henry  VI),  the  Quarto  of  Sir 
John  Oldcastle,  dated  1600,  and  the  Quarto  of  A  Yorkshire 
Tragedie,  dated  1619,  have  been  shown  by  Mr.  A.  W.  Pollard, 
with  the  cooperation  of  Mr.  W.  W.  Greg,  to  have  been  put 
on  the  market  at  the  same  time,  and  Mr.  W.  J.  Neidig  has 
proved  from  typographical  evidence  that  the  title-pages  of 
all  nine  were  set  up  in  succession  in  1619.  A  very  curious 
problem  is  thus  presented,  and  the  motives  for  the  deception 
practised,  apparently  by  the  printers  Pavier  and  Jaggard, 
have  not  been  satisfactorily  cleared  up ;  but  at  present  it 
appears  likely  that  in  the  case  of  these  nine  Quartos  the 


1K\)t  ifirat  jTolio  141 

We  come  now  to  the  publication  of  the  First  Folio, 
the  most  important  single  volume  in  the  history  of  the 
text  of  Shakespeare.  On  November  8,  1623,  the 
following  entry  occurs  in  the  Stationers'  Register : 

Mr.  Blount:  Isaak  Jaggard.  Entred  for  their  copie  under 
the  hands  of  Mr  Doctor  Worrall  and  Mr  Cole,  Warden, 
Mr  William  Shakspeers  Comedyes,  Histories  and  Tragedyes, 
soe  manie  of  the  said  copyes  as  are  not  formerly  entred  to 
other  men  viz',  Comedyes.  The  Tempest.  The  two  gentle- 
men of  Verona.  Measure  for  Measure.  The  Comedy  of 
Errors.  As  you  like  it.  All's  well  that  ends  well.  Twelft 
Night.  The  winters  tale.  Histories.  The  thirde  part  of 
Henry  the  sixt.  Henry  the  eight.  Tragedies.  Coriolanus. 
Timon  of  Athens.  Julius  Caesar.  Mackbeth.  Anthonie 
and  Cleopatra.     Cymbeline. 

One  notes  here  the  omission  of  1  and  2  Henry  VI, 
King  John,  and  The  Taming  of  the  Shrew,  which  had 
neither  been  previously  entered  nor  issued  in  Quarto. 
This  is  probably  due  to  the  fact  that  three  of  these  are 
based  on  older  plays  of  which  Quartos  exist,  which  may 
have  seemed  to  the  publishers  reason  enough  to  save 
their  sixpences.  If  we  assume  that  "The  thirde  part 
of  Henry  the  sixt"  is  a  misprint  for  "The  first  part," 

correct  date  of  publication  should  be  1619,  and  that,  in  the 
case  of  the  first  two  mentioned,  the  question  of  the  com- 
parative authority  of  the  Heyes  and  Fisher  Quartos  respec- 
tively as  against  that  of  the  Roberts  Quartos  should  be  settled 
against  the  latter.  This  last  point  is  the  only  part  of  this 
remarkable  discovery  which  is  of  importance  in  determining 
the  text,  as  the  Quartos  dated  1608  and  1619  were  already 
known  to  be  mere  reprints  of  earlier  ones. 


142        ®\)t  jFactg  about  £>ljatepeare 

the  explanation  covers  the  whole  case.  The  registra- 
tion of  Antony  and  Cleopatra  was  superfluous,  as  it  had 
been  entered,  though  not  printed,  so  far  as  we  know, 
on  May  20,  1608. 

There  are  thus  in  the  First  Folio,  the  publication  of 
which  immediately  followed  this  entry  in  1623,  twenty 
plays  not  before  issued,  for  which  the  text  of  this 
volume  is  our  sole  authority.  The  emphasis  so  com- 
monly placed  on  the  supreme  value  of  the  text  of  the 
First  Folio  is  justified  with  regard  to  these  twenty 
plays ;  as  for  the  remaining  seventeen,  its  importance 
is  shared,  in  proportions  varying  from  play  to  play, 
with  the  texts  of  the  Quartos.  The  sources  from  which 
the  compilers  of  the  Folio  obtained  their  new  material 
were  in  all  probability  playhouse  copies,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  better  Quartos.  Heminge  and  Condell,  Shake- 
speare's actor  colleagues  and  friends,  who  sign  the  Ad- 
dress to  the  Readers,1  would  obviously  be  the  instru- 
ments for  obtaining  such  copies.  As  for  the  so-called 
"private  transcripts"  which  some  have  postulated  as 
a  source  of  material,  there  is  no  evidence  that  at  this 
date  any  such  existed.  Whether  any  of  the  playhouse 
manuscripts  provided  by  Heminge  and  Condell  were  in 
Shakespeare's  autograph  we  can  neither  affirm  nor  deny, 
but  it  is  well  to  be  cautious  in  accepting  at  its  face 
value  the  implication  contained  in  their  words  that  they 
had  "scarce  received  from  him  a  blot  in  his  papers." 

1  For  this  and  other  prefatory  matter  from  the  First 
Folio,  see  Appendix  A. 


Mr.WILLUM 

SHAKESPEARES 

COMEDIES, 
HISTORIES,    & 
TRAGEDIES. 

tocheTmeOri  , 


L  0  ^C  'D  0  .% 
Pn'nteilby  It'iac  laggaril,and  Ed. Blount,    i  61  y 


The  Title  Page  of  the  First  Folio 
(From  the  copy  in  the  New  York  Public  Library.) 


Wtyt  ifirsft  jfolio  143 

The  First  Folio  is  a  large  volume  of  908  pages, 
measuring  in  the  tallest  extant  copy  13f  x  8|  inches. 
A  reduced  facsimile  of  the  title  page  with  the  familiar 
wood-cut  portrait  appears  on  the  opposite  page.  The 
text  is  printed  in  two  columns  with  sixty-six  lines  to  a 
column.  The  typography  is  only  fairly  good,  and  many 
mistakes  occur  in  the  pagination.  Extant  copies,  of 
which  there  are  at  least  156,  vary  in  some  respects,  on 
account  of  the  practice  of  making  corrections  while  the 
sheets  were  being  printed.  The  printer  was  William 
Jaggard,  and  his  associates  in  the  publishing  enterprise 
were  his  son  Isaac  and  the  booksellers,  William  Aspley, 
John  Smethwick,  and  Edward  Blount.  Estimates  of  the 
size  of  the  edition  vary  from  five  to  six  hundred. 

Many  of  the  causes  which  made  the  text  of  these 
early  editions  inaccurate  are  common  to  all  the  plays, 
while  some  are  peculiar  to  those  obtained  by  reporters 
in  the  theater.  Of  the  first,  the  most  fundamental 
is,  of  course,  the  illegibility  or  ambiguity  of  the  author's 
original  manuscript.  Such  flaws  were  perpetuated  and 
multiplied  with  each  successive  transcript,  and  when 
the  manuscript  copy  came  into  the  printer's  hands, 
the  errors  of  the  compositor  —  confusion  of  words 
sounding  alike,  of  words  looking  alike,  unconscious 
substitution  of  synonyms,  mere  manual  slips,  and  the 
like  —  were  added  to  those  already  existing.  The 
absence  of  any  uniform  spelling,  and  carelessness  in 
punctuation,  which  led  to  these  being  freely  modified 
by  the  printer,  increased  the  risk  of  corruption.     The 


i44        Qfyt  ifacts  about  £>t)akespeare 

punctuation  of  both  Quartos  and  Folio,  though  by  no 
means  without  weight,  cannot  be  regarded  as  having 
the  author's  sanction,  and  all  modernized  editions 
re-punctuate  with  greater  or  less  freedom.  Most 
nineteenth-century  editors  carry  on  with  minor  modifi- 
cations the  punctuation  of  Pope,  so  that  their  texts 
show  a  composite  of  sixteenth,  seventeenth,  eighteenth, 
and  nineteenth  century  methods ;  the  text  used  in  the 
Tudor  edition  is  frankly  punctuated,  as  far  as  the  syn- 
tax permits,  according  to  modern  methods,  with,  it  is 
believed,  no  loss  in  authority.  There  is  no  clear  evi- 
dence that,  in  such  productions  as  plays,  proof  was 
read  outside  of  the  printing-office.  The  theory,  insisted 
on  by  Dr.  Furness  in  successive  volumes  of  the  New 
Variorum  Shakespeare,  that  the  Elizabethan  compos- 
itor set  type  to  dictation  is  without  foundation,  the 
phenomena  which  he  seeks  to  explain  by  it  occurring 
commonly  to-day  when  there  is  no  question  of  such  a 
practice. 

Another  class  of  variation  in  text  arose  from  the 
treatment  of  the  manuscript  in  the  playhouse.  Cuts, 
additions,  and  alterations  were  made  for  acting  pur- 
poses, stage  directions  were  added  with  or  without 
the  assistance  of  the  author,  revivals  of  the  play  called 
for  revision  by  the  original  writer  or  another.  The 
majority  of  stage  directions  in  modern  editions,  except 
exits  and  entrances,  are  due  to  editors  from  Rowe 
onwards,  and  these  unauthorized  additions  are  distin- 
guished  in   the  Tudor  edition   by   brackets.     Almost 


Corruptions  of  &m  14s 

all  notes  of  place  at  the  beginnings  of  scenes  belong  to 
this  class. 

The  defects  to  which  the  texts  of  the  surreptitiously 
obtained  Quartos  are  particularly  subject  include 
omissions  and  alterations  due  to  lapse  of  memory  on 
the  part  of  the  actors,  additions  due  to  the  tendency  to 
improvise  which  Shakespeare  censures  in  Hamlet, 
omissions  due  to  the  reporter's  failure  to  hear  or  to 
write  quickly  enough,  garbled  paraphrases  made  up 
to  supply  such  omissions,  and  the  writing  of  prose  as 
verse  and  verse  as  prose. 

Such  are  the  most  important  of  the  causes  of  the 
corruptions  which  the  long  series  of  editors  of  Shake- 
speare have  devoted  their  study  and  their  ingenuity 
to  remedying.  The  series  really  begins  with  the  second 
Folio  of  1632  and  is  continued  with  but  slight  improve- 
ments in  the  third  Folio  of  1663,  reprinted  with  the 
addition  of  Pericles  and  six  spurious  plays  in  1664, 
and  in  the  fourth  Folio  of  1685.  The  emendations 
made  in  the  seventeenth-century  editions  are  mainly 
modernizations  in  spelling  and  such  minor  changes  as 
occurred  to  members  of  the  printing  staff.  In  no  case 
do  they  have  any  authority  except  such  as  may  be 
supposed  to  belong  to  a  man  not  far  removed  from 
Shakespeare  in  date ;  and  they  add  about  as  many 
mistakes  as  they  remove. 

The  difficulty  of  the  task  of  the  modern  editor  varies 
greatly  from  play  to  play.  It  is  least  in  the  twenty 
plays  for  which  the  First  Folio  is  the  sole  authority, 

L 


146        We>t  jFacts  about  ^afeeapeare 

greater  in  the  eight  in  which  the  Folio  reprints  a  Quarto 
with  some  variations,  greatest  in  the  nine  in  which 
Folio  and  Quarto  represent  rival  versions.  In  these  last 
cases,  it  is  the  duty  of  the  editor  to  decide  from  all  the 
accessible  data  which  version  has  the  best  claim  to 
represent  the  author's  intention,  and  to  make  that  a 
basis  to  be  departed  from  only  in  clear  cases  of  corrup- 
tion. The  temptation,  which  no  editor  has  completely 
resisted,  is  naturally  towards  an  eclecticism  which  adopts 
the  reading  that  seems  most  plausible  in  itself,  with- 
out giving  due  weight  to  the  general  authority  of  the 
text  chosen  as  a  basis.  If  carried  far,  such  eclecticism 
results  in  a  patchwork  quite  distinct  from  any  version 
that  Shakespeare  can  have  known. 

The  first  editor  of  Shakespeare,  in  the  modern  sense, 
was  Nicholas  Rowe,  poet  laureate  under  Queen 
Anne.  He  published  in  1709  an  edition  of  the  plays 
in  six  octavo  volumes,  preceded  by  the  first  formal 
memoir  of  the  dramatist,  and  furnished  with  notes. 
The  poems  were  issued  in  the  following  year  in  similar 
form,  with  essays  by  Gildon.  Rowe  based  his  text 
upon  that  of  the  fourth  Folio,  with  hardly  any  collation 
of  previous  editions.  He  corrected  a  large  number  of 
the  more  obvious  corruptions,  the  most  notable  of 
his  emendations  being  perhaps  the  phrase  in  Twelfth 
Night,  "Some  are  become  great,"  which  he  changed 
to  "Some  are  born  great."  On  the  external  aspect 
of  the  plays  Rowe  has  left  a  deeper  mark  than  any 
subsequent  editor.     In  the  Folios  only  eight  of  the 


Uotoe  ano  pope  147 

plays  had  lists  of  dramatis  persona;  Rowe  supplied 
them  for  the  rest.  In  the  Folios  the  division  into 
acts  and  scenes  is  carried  out  completely  in  only 
seventeen  cases,  it  is  partially  done  in  thirteen,  and 
in  six  it  is  not  attempted  at  all.  Rowe  again  com- 
pleted the  work,  and  though  some  of  his  divisions 
have  been  modified  and  others  should  be,  he  performed 
this  task  with  care  and  intelligence.  He  modernized 
the  spelling  and  the  punctuation,  completed  the  exits 
and  entrances,  corrected  many  corrupt  speech-tags, 
and  arranged  many  passages  where  the  verse  was 
disordered.  In  virtue  of  these  services,  he  must,  in 
spite  of  his  leaving  much  undone,  be  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  important  agents  in  the  formation  of  our 
modern  text. 

A  second  edition  of  Rowe's  Shakespeare  was  pub- 
lished in  1714,  and  in  1725  appeared  a  splendid  quarto 
edition  in  six  volumes,  edited  by  Alexander  Pope. 
In  his  preface  Pope  made  strong  professions  of  his 
good  faith  in  dealing  with  the  text.  "I  have  dis- 
charged," he  said,  "the  dull  duty  of  an  editor  to  my 
best  judgment,  with  more  labor  than  I  expect  thanks, 
with  a  religious  abhorrence  of  all  innovation,  and  without 
any  indulgence  to  my  private  sense  or  conjecture.  .  .  . 
The  various  readings  are  fairly  put  in  the  margin,  so 
that  anyone  may  compare  'em ;  and  those  I  have  pre- 
ferred into  the  text  are  constantly  ex  fide  codicum, 
upon  authority.  .  .  .  The  more  obsolete  or  unusual 
words  are   explained."     Hardly   one   of  these   state- 


B48        Ws>t  iFacts  about  £>tjakes(peare 

ments  is  entirely  true.  Pope  possessed  copies  of  the 
first  and  second  Folios,  and  at  least  one  Quarto  of  each 
play  that  had  been  printed  before  1623,  except  Much 
Ado,  but  these  he  consulted  only  occasionally,  and 
seldom  registered  the  variants  as  he  said  he  had  done, 
When  he  did,  he  gave  no  clue  to  their  source.  He 
constantly  inserted  his  private  conjectures  without 
notice,  and  his  explanations  of  difficult  expressions 
are  few  and  frequently  wrong.  Passages  considered 
by  him  inferior  or  spurious  he  relegated  to  the  foot  of 
the  pages ;  others  he  merely  omitted  without  notice. 
His  ear  was  often  jarred  by  the  freedom  of  Shake- 
speare's verse,  and  he  did  his  best  to  make  it 
"regular"  by  eighteenth-century  standards.  Yet 
Pope  spent  much  ingenuity  in  striving  to  better  the 
text,  and  no  small  number  of  restorations  and  emenda- 
tions are  to  be  credited  to  him,  especially  in  connection 
with  the  arrangement  of  the  verse.  He  is  to  be  cred- 
ited also  with  discernment  in  rejecting  the  seven  plays 
added  to  the  Shakespearean  canon  in  the  third  Folio, 
of  which  only  Pericles  has  since  been  restored. 

The  weaknesses  of  Pope's  edition  did  not  long  remain 
hidden.  In  the  spring  of  1726  appeared  "Shakespeare 
Restored :  or,  a  Specimen  of  the  many  Errors,  as  well 
committed,  as  unamended,  by  Mr.  Pope  in  his  late 
edition  of  this  Poet.  Designed  not  only  to  correct  the 
said  edition,  but  to  restore  the  True  Reading  of  Shake- 
speare in  all  the  Editions  ever  yet  publish'd."  Lewis 
Theobald,  the  author,  was  a  translator  and  scholar, 


tEtieobaU)  anD  J?anmer  149 

much  better  equipped  than  Pope  for  the  work  of  edit- 
ing, and  his  merciless  exposure  of  Pope's  defects  gave 
a  foretaste  of  the  critical  ability  later  displayed  in  the 
edition  of  Shakespeare  which  he  published  in  1734. 
Lovers  of  Shakespeare  discerned  at  the  time  the  service 
performed  by  Theobald  in  this  attack  on  Pope,  but  the 
publication  in  1728  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Dunciad, 
with  Theobald  as  hero,  gave  Pope  his  revenge,  and 
cast  over  the  reputation  of  Ins  critic  a  cloud  which  is 
only  now  dispersing.  Modern  scholarship,  however, 
has  come  to  recognize  the  primacy  of  Theobald  among 
emendators  of  Shakespeare's  text,  and  the  most  famous 
of  his  contributions,  his  correction  of  "a  table  of  green 
fields"  to  "'a  babied  of  green  fields,"  in  Quickly's 
account  of  the  death  of  Falstaff  in  Henry  V,  II.  iii.  17, 
is  only  a  specially  brilliant  example  of  the  combination 
of  acuteness,  learning,  and  sympathy  which  made  his 
edition  a  landmark  in  the  history  of  the  text.  For 
many  of  his  troubles,  however,  Theobald  was  himself 
to  blame;  he  attacked  his  opponents  with  unnecessary 
vehemence,  as  he  expressed  his  appreciation  of  his 
own  work  with  unnecessary  emphasis ;  he  was  not 
always  candid  as  to  what  he  owed  to  others,  even  to 
the  despised  edition  of  Pope,  from  which  he  printed ; 
and  he  indulged  his  appetite  for  conjecture  at  times 
beyond  reasonable  bounds. 

Theobald's  edition  was  followed  in  1744  by  that  of 
Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  in  six  beautifully  printed  volumes. 
This  edition  is  based  on  that  of  Pope,  and  even  goes 


i5<>        ?&\z  jfaet*  about  £>tjafce$peate 

farther  than  Pope's  in  relegating  to  the  foot  of  the  page 
passages  supposed  unworthy.  Hanmer  performed  no 
collating  worth  mentioning,  but  made  some  acute  con- 
jectures. 

The  student  is  apt  to  be  prejudiced  against  the  work 
of  William  Warburton  on  account  of  the  extravagance 
of  his  claims  and  his  ungenerous  treatment  of  pre- 
decessors to  whom  he  was  greatly  indebted.  "The 
Genuine  Text,"  he  announced,  "  (collated  with  all 
former  editions  and  then  corrected  and  emended) 
is  here  settled :  Being  restored  from  the  Blunders  of 
the  first  editors  and  the  Interpolations  of  the  two 
Last";  yet  he  based  his  text  on  Theobald's  and  joined 
Pope's  name  with  his  own  on  the  title-page.  What- 
ever value  belongs  to  Warburton 's  edition  (1747)  lies 
in  a  number  of  probable  conjectural  emendations, 
some  of  which  he  had  previously  allowed  Theobald  to 
use,  and  in  the  amusing  bombast  and  arrogance  of  many 
of  his  notes.  The  feeble  support  that  lay  behind  the 
pretensions  of  this  editor  was  exposed  by  a  number 
of  critics  such  as  John  Upton,  Zachary  Grey,  Benjamin 
Heath,  and  Thomas  Edwards,  who  did  not  issue  new 
editions,  but  contributed  a  considerable  number  of 
corrections  and  interpretations. 

The  value  of  Dr.  Johnson's  edition  (1765)  does  not  lie 
in  his  emendations,  which  are  usually,  though  not 
always,  poor,  or  in  his  collation  of  older  editions,  for 
which  he  was  too  indolent,  but  in  the  sturdy  common- 
sense  of  his  interpretations  and  the  consummate  skill 


31otm0on  anD  Capell  151 

frequently  shown  in  paraphrases  of  obscure  passages. 
His  Preface  to  the  edition  was  the  most  weighty  gen- 
eral estimate  of  Shakespeare  so  far  produced,  and 
remains  a  valuable  piece  of  criticism.  In  scientific 
treatment  of  the  text,  involving  full  use  of  all  the 
Quartos  and  Folios  then  accessible,  Johnson  and  his 
predecessors  were  far  surpassed  by  Edward  Capell,  who 
issued  his  edition  in  ten  volumes  in  1768.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  enormous  labor  Capell  underwent  did  not 
bear  its  full  fruit,  for  he  suppressed  much  of  his  textual 
material  in  the  interests  of  a  well-printed  page,  and  his 
preface  and  notes  are  written  in  a  crabbed  style  that 
obscures  the  acuteness  of  his  editorial  intelligence. 
He  elaborated  stage  directions,  and  carried  farther  the 
correction  of  disarranged  meter ;  but,  like  most  of  his 
fellow-editors  in  that  century,  he  did  less  than  justice 
to  his  predecessors  and  was  too  indulgent  to  his  own 
conjectures.  This  edition  was  supplemented  by  vol- 
umes of  notes  published  in  1775  (1  vol.)  and  1779- 
1783  (3  vols.). 

Before  the  publication  of  Capell's  text,  the  anti- 
quary George  Steevens  had  issued  in  1766  reprints  of 
twenty  of  the  early  Quartos ;  and  in  1773  he  produced, 
in  association  with  Johnson,  an  edition  with  a  good  text 
in  which  he  benefited  from  Capell's  labors  (though  he 
denies  this).  Through  his  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  lit- 
erature he  made  substantial  contributions  to  the  inter- 
pretation of  difficult  passages.  He  restored  Pericles  to 
a  place  in  the  canon,  but  excluded  the  Poems,  because 


i52        1&ty  ifacts;  about  ^Ijafeesfpeare 

*  the  strongest  Act  of  Parliament  that  could  be  framed 
would  fail  to  compel  readers  into  their  service."  To 
the  second  edition  of  Johnson  and  Steevens's  text 
(1778)  Edmund  Malone  contributed  his  famous  "Essay 
on  the  Chronology  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,"  which 
began  modern  investigation  of  this  subject.  The 
third  edition  was  revised  in  1785  by  Isaac  Reed ;  and 
this  was  succeeded  by  the  edition  of  Malone  in  1790, 
in  which  the  vast  learning  and  conscientious  care  of 
that  scholar  combined  to  produce  the  most  trust- 
worthy text  so  far  published.  Malone  was  not  bril- 
liant, but  he  was  extremely  erudite  and  candid,  and 
his  so-called  "Third  Variorum"  edition  in  twenty -one 
volumes,  brought  out  after  his  death  by  James  Boswell 
in  1821,  is  a  mine  of  information  on  theatrical  history 
and  cognate  matters,  which  will  probably  always  be 
of  value  to  students  of  the  period.  The  name  of 
"First  Variorum  Edition"  is  given  to  the  fifth  edition 
of  Johnson  and  Steevens,  revised  by  Reed  in  1803,  and 
"Second  Variorum"  to  the  sixth  edition  of  the  same, 
1813.  Meantime  occasional  critiques  of  complete 
editions  contributed  something  to  the  text.  Johnson's 
edition  called  forth  comment  by  Kendrick  in  1765 
and  Tyrwhitt  in  1766,  and  the  Johnson  and  Steevens 
text  was  criticized  by  Joseph  Ritson  in  1783  and  1788, 
and  by  J.  Monck  Mason  in  1785.  The  first  American 
edition  was  published  in  Philadelphia  in  1795-1796 
from  Johnson's  text ;  the  first  continental  edition  at 
Brunswick  in  1797-1801  by  C.  Wagner. 


$intttmtfy£tntuty  CDitorsf         153 

The  editions  of  the  nineteenth  century  are  too 
numerous  for  detailed  mention  here.  Passing  by  the 
"family"  Shakespeare  of  T.  Bowdler,  1807  and  1820, 
and  the  editions  of  Harness,  1825,  and  Singer,  1826,  we 
note  the  editions  of  1838-1842,  and  1842-1844  in  which 
Charles  Knight  resorted  to  the  text  of  the  First  Folio 
as  an  exclusive  authority.  J.  P.  Collier  in  his  edition 
of  1844  leaned,  on  the  other  hand,  to  the  side  of  the 
Quartos,  but  later  became  a  clever  if  somewhat  rash 
emendator,  who  spoiled  his  reputation  by  seeking  to 
obtain  authority  for  his  guesses  by  forging  them  in  a 
seventeenth-century  hand  in  a  copy  of  the  second 
Folio.  The  colossal  volumes  of  J.  O.  Halliwell-Phil- 
lipps's  edition,  1853-1865,  contain  stores  of  anti- 
quarian illustration  ;  and  in  the  edition  of  Delius,  1854- 
1861,  we  have  the  chief  contribution  of  Germany  to 
the  text  of  Shakespeare.  Delius,  like  Knight,  though 
not  to  the  same  extreme,  exaggerated  the  authority  of 
the  First  Folio ;  but  for  the  plays  for  which  that  is  the 
sole  source,  his  text  has  earned  high  respect.  Alex- 
ander Dyce,  wisest  of  Elizabethan  scholars,  produced 
in  1857  a  characteristically  sane  text,  on  the  whole  the 
best  to  this  date;  while  in  America  in  1857-1860  and 
1859-1865  the  brilliant  but  erratic  Richard  Grant 
White  produced  editions  which  show  a  commendable 
if  puzzling  openness  to  conviction  in  successive  changes 
of  opinion. 

From  1863  to  1866  appeared  the  first  issue  of  the 
Cambridge  Shakespeare,   edited  originally  by  W.  G. 


154        Gtfje  ifactsf  about  £>tjatepeare 

Clark,  J.  Glover,  and  W.  A.  Wright.  The  responsibility 
for  the  later  revised  edition  of  1891-3  is  Dr.  Wright's. 
The  exceedingly  careful  and  exhaustive  collation  of  all 
previous  textual  readings  in  the  notes  of  this  edition 
make  it  indispensable  for  the  serious  student,  and  its 
text,  substantially  reprinted  in  the  Globe  edition,  is  the 
most  widely  accepted  form  of  the  works  of  Shakespeare 
which  has  ever  been  circulated.  The  over-emphasis 
on  the  First  Folio  which  has  been  noted  in  Knight  and 
Delius  is  no  longer  found  here,  and  in  general  the  com- 
parative value  of  Quarto  and  Folio  is  weighed  in  the 
case  of  each  play.  Occasionally,  in  cases  like  that  of 
Richard  III,  where  both  Quarto  and  Folio  are  good 
but  vary  widely,  the  Cambridge  editors  seem  more 
eclectic  than  their  general  theory  warrants,  and  the 
punctuation  is  still  archaic,  clinging  to  the  eighteenth- 
century  tradition.  But  the  acceptance  of  this  careful 
and  conservative  text  has  been  a  wholesome  influence 
in  Shakespearean  study. 

The  only  completely  ree'dited  texts  which  have 
been  issued  since  the  revised  Cambridge  edition  are 
that  of  the  Oxford  Shakespeare,  by  W.  J.  Craig,  on 
Drinciples  very  similar  to  the  Cambridge,  and  the 
Neilson  text,  originally  published  in  one  volume  in 
1906  and  revised  and  reprinted  in  the  Tudor  Shake- 
speare. The  massive  volumes  of  Dr.  H.  H.  Furness's 
New  Variorum  Shakespeare,  begun  in  1871  (17  volumes 
issued),  now  reprint  the  text  of  the  First  Folio,  and  show 
marked  traces  of  the  tendency  to  follow  this  authority 


Uecent  (EDitors  155 

without  due  discrimination.  This  monumental  ab- 
stract of  all  previous  criticism  is  of  great  value  to  the 
professional  student  of  Shakespeare,  and  its  textual 
apparatus  has  the  advantage  over  the  Cambridge 
edition  of  recording  not  only  the  first  occurrence  of  a 
reading,  but  the  names  of  the  chief  editors  who  have 
adopted  it.  It  thus  gives  a  compendious  history  of 
editorial  judgment  on  all  disputed  points. 

The  conjectural  emendation  of  Shakespeare  still 
goes  on,  but  since  Dyce,  comparatively  few  suggestions 
find  general  acceptance.  More  progress  has  been  made 
in  interpretation  through  the  greater  accessibility  of 
contemporary  documents  and  the  advance  in  recent 
years  in  our  knowledge  of  Elizabethan  theatrical  condi- 
tions. But,  in  view  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
the  original  editions  were  printed,  there  will  always  be 
room  for  variations  of  individual  opinion  in  many  cases, 
both  as  to  what  Shakespeare  wrote  and  as  to  what  he 
meant. 


CHAPTER  VIH 

Questions  of  Authenticity 

Owing  to  the  conditions  of  publication  described  in 
Chapter  VII  there  are  questions  as  to  the  authenticity 
of  a  number  of  the  poems  and  plays  ascribed  to  Shake- 
speare. Of  the  poems,  "  The  Phoenix  and  the  Turtle  " 
and  "  A  Lover's  Complaint "  have  been  sometimes  re- 
jected as  unworthy,  but  there  is  no  other  evidence 
against  the  ascription  to  him  by  the  original  publishers. 
The  case  of  The  Passionate  Pilgrim  is  different  and  is 
interesting  as  illustrating  the  methods  of  piracy  prac- 
tised by  booksellers  and  as  affording  the  only  record  of 
a  protest  by  Shakespeare  against  the  free  use  which 
they  made  of  his  name.  This  anthology  was  published 
by  W.  Jaggard  in  1599  as  "by  W.  Shakespeare."  The 
third  edition  in  1612  added  two  pieces  by  Thomas 
Hey  wood.  Hey  wood  immediately  protested  and  in 
the  postscript  to  his  Apologie  for  Actors,  1612,  declared 
that  Shakespeare  was  "  much  offended  with  M.  Jaggard 
that  (altogether  unknown  to  him)  presumed  to  make 
so  bold  with  his  name."  Of  the  twenty  poems  that 
made  up  the  volume,  only  five  are  certainly  by  Shake- 
speare, two  appearing  also  in  The  Sonnets  and  three  in 
Love's  Labour's  Lost.  Six  others  can  be  assigned  to 
contemporary  poets.  The  authorship  of  the  remaining 
156 


tEtje  Shakespeare  &poetTpt)a  157 

nine  is  unknown,  but  probably  only  one  or  two  are  by 
Shakespeare. 

In  addition  to  the  thirty-seven  plays  now  included 
in  all  editions  of  Shakespeare,  some  forty  others  have 
been,  for  one  reason  or  another,  attributed  to  him. 
The  First  Folio  contained  thirty-six  plays ;  and  it  is  a 
strong  evidence  of  the  honesty  and  information  of  its 
editors,  Heming  and  Condell,  that  subsequent  criticism 
has  been  satisfied  to  retain  the  plays  of  their  choice  and 
to  make  but  one  addition,  Pericles.  Of  these  plays, 
however,  it  is  now  generally  agreed  that  a  number  are 
not  entirely  the  work  of  Shakespeare,  but  were  written 
by  him  in  part  in  collaboration  with  other  writers,  e.g., 
Titus  Andronicus,  1,  2,  and  3  Henry  VI,  Timon  of 
Athens,  Pericles,  and  Henry  VIII.  Of  two  of  these, 
Titus  Andronicus  and  1  Henry  VI,  some  students 
refuse  to  give  Shakespeare  any  share.  Of  the  forty 
doubtful  plays,  there  is  not  one  which  in  its  entirety 
is  now  credited  to  Shakespeare ;  and  only  three  or 
four  in  which  any  number  of  competent  critics  see 
traces  of  his  hand.  Only  in  the  case  of  The  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen  is  there  any  weight  of  evidence  or  opinion 
that  he  had  a  considerable  share. 

The  second  Folio  kept  to  the  thirty-six  plays  of  the 
First  Folio ;  but  the  second  printing  of  the  third  Folio 
(1664)  added  seven  plays:  Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre, 
The  London  Prodigal,  The  History  of  Thomas  Lord 
Cromwell,  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  Lord  Cobham,  The  Puritan 
Widow,  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy,  The  Tragedy  of  Locrine. 


158        tEije  iFacts  about  ^afeespeare 

These  seven  plays  were  also  included  in  the  fourth 
Folio,  and  as  supplementary  volumes  to  Rowe's,  Pope's, 
and  some  later  editions.  They  were  all  originally 
published  in  quarto  as  by  W.  S.,  or  William  Shakespeare, 
but  except  in  the  case  of  Pericles,  this  has  been  regarded 
as  a  bookseller's  mistake  or  deception  without  warrant. 
Locrine,  "newly  set  forth,  overseen,  and  corrected 
by  W.  S.,  1595,"  is  a  play  of  about  the  date  of  Titus 
Andronicus,  and  is  probably  by  Greene,  Peele,  or  some 
imitator  of  Marlowe  and  Kyd.  Sir  John  Oldcastle 
appeared  in  1600  in  two  quartos,  one  of  which  ascribed 
it  to  William  Shakespeare,  but  it  was  clearly  com- 
posed for  the  Admiral's  men  as  a  rival  to  the  Falstaff 
plays  which  the  Chamberlain's  men  had  been  acting. 
Thomas  Lord  Cromwell  (1602)  and  The  Puritan  (1607) 
were  ascribed  to  W.  S.,  on  their  title-pages,  but  offer 
no  possible  resemblances  to  Shakespeare.  The  London 
Prodigal  (1605)  and  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy  (1608)  were 
both  acted  by  Shakespeare's  company,  and  bore  his 
name  on  their  first  editions,  and  the  latter  also  on  a 
second  edition,  1619.  The  external  evidence  for  his 
authorship  is  virtually  the  same  as  in  the  case  of 
Pericles,  which  also  was  acted  by  his  company,  appeared 
under  his  name  during  his  lifetime,  but  was  rejected  by 
the  editors  of  the  First  Folio.  No  one,  however,  can 
discover  any  suggestion  of  Shakespeare  in  The  London 
Prodigal.  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy  is  a  domestic  tragedy  in 
one  act,  dealing  with  a  contemporary  murder.  It  gives 
the  conclusion  of  a  story  also  treated  in  a  play,  The 


1&\)t  tEfcoo  jpoble  ifcinsmen  159 

Miseries  of  Enforced  Marriage  (1607)  by  George  Wilkins, 
the  author  of  a  novel  The  Painful  Adventures  of 
Pericles,  and  sometimes  suggested  as  a  collaborator 
on  the  play  Pericles.  A  Yorkshire  Tragedy  is  very 
unlike  Shakespeare,  but  it  has  a  few  passages  of  ex- 
traordinarily vivid  prose,  which  might  conceivably  owe 
something  to  him. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  was  registered  April  8,  1634, 
and  appeared  in  the  same  year  with  the  following 
title-page  "The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen:  Presented  at 
the  Blackfriars  by  the  Kings  Maiesties  servants,  with 
great  applause :  Written  by  the  memorable  Worthies 
of  their  time ; 

Mr.  John  Fletcher,  and      1  p  n* 

Mr.  William  Shakespeare  j 
Printed  at  London  by  the  Tho.  Cotes  for  Iohn  Water- 
son  ;  and  are  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the  Crowne  in 
Paul's  Church-yard.  1634."  The  exclusion  of  the 
play  from  the  First  Folio  may  be  explained  on  the  same 
basis  as  the  exclusion  of  Pericles;  for  in  each  play 
Shakespeare  wrote  the  minor  part.  There  is  now 
general  agreement  that  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  was 
written  by  two  authors  with  distinct  styles,  and  that 
the  author  of  the  larger  portion  is  Fletcher.  The 
attribution  of  the  non-Fletcherian  part  to  Shakespeare 
has  been  upheld  by  Lamb,  Coleridge,  De  Quincey, 
Spalding  (in  a  notable  Letter  on  Shakespeare's  Author- 
ship of  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  1833),  Furness,  and 
Littledale  (who  edited  the  play  for  The  New  Shakespeare 


160        Stje  iFacta  about  ^ake^peare 

Society,  Series  II,  1,  8,  15,  London,  1876-1885);  but 
there  are  still  many  critics  who  do  not  believe  that 
Shakespeare  had  any  part  in  the  play.  This  question 
will  probably  always  remain  a  matter  of  opinion ; 
but  the  evidence  of  various  verse  tests  confirms  esthetic 
judgment  in  assigning  about  two  fifths  of  the  verse  to 
Shakespeare.  The  Shakespearean  portion,  here  and 
there  possibly  touched  by  Fletcher,  includes,  Li; 
I.  ii ;  I.  hi ;  I.  iv.  1-28 ;  in.  i ;  III.  ii ;  V.  i.  17-73 ;  V.  iii. 
1-104 ;   V.  iv,  and  perhaps  the  prose  II.  i  and  IV.  iii. 

The  dance  in  the  play  is  borrowed  from  an  anti- 
masque  in  Beaumont's  Masque  of  the  Inner  Temple  and 
Gray's  Inn,  presented  at  court,  February  £0, 1613.  This 
fixes  the  date  of  composition  for  the  play  in  1613,  the 
same  year  as  Henry  VIII,  on  which  it  is  now  generally 
agreed  that  Shakespeare  and  Fletcher  collaborated. 
On  both  of  the  plays  the  collaboration  seems  to  have 
been  direct;  i.e.,  after  making  a  fairly  detailed  outline, 
each  writer  took  certain  scenes,  and,  to  all  intents, 
completed  these  scenes  after  his  own  fashion. 

One  other  play  must  be  mentioned  in  connection 
with  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen.  Cardenio,  entered  on 
the  Stationers'  Register,  1653,  was  described  as  "by 
Fletcher  and  Shakespeare."  It  seems  probably  identi- 
cal with  a  Cardenno  acted  at  court  by  the  King's  men 
in  May,  1613,  and  a  Cardenna  in  June,  1613.  Attempts 
have  been  made  to  connect  it  with  Double  Falsehood, 
assigned  to  Shakespeare  by  Theobald  on  its  publication 
in  1728. 


ilate  #0crtptton0  161 

Other  non-extant  plays  ascribed  to  Shakespeare  after 
1642  require  no  attention,  nor  do  a  number  of  Eliza- 
bethan plays  assigned  to  him  in  certain  of  their  later 
quartos.  Among  these  are  The  Troublesome  Reign 
of  King  John,  on  which  Shakespeare's  King  John  was 
based ;  The  First  Part  of  The  Contention,  and  (the 
Second  Part)  The  True  Tragedy  of  Richard  Duke  of 
York  (versions  of  2  Henry  VI  and  3  Henry  VI) ;  and 
The  Taming  of  a  Shrew,  the  basis  of  Shakespeare's 
play.  The  relation  of  Shakespeare's  plays  to  these 
earlier  versions  is  discussed  in  the  introductions  to  the 
respective  volumes  of  the  Tudor  Shakespeare.  Other 
plays  assigned,  without  grounds,  to  Shakespeare  by 
late  seventeenth-century  booksellers  are  The  Merry 
Devil  of  Edmonton,  The  Arraignment  of  Paris,  Fair  Em, 
Mucedorus,  and  The  Birth  of  Merlin. 

A  few  other  anonymous  plays  have  been  ascribed 
to  Shakespeare  by  modern  critics.  Of  chief  note 
are  Arden  of  Feversham,  1592,  first  attributed  to  Shake- 
speare by  Edward  Jacob  in  1770;  Edward  III,  1596, 
included  with  other  false  attributions  to  Shakespeare 
in  a  bookseller's  list  of  1659,  and  edited  and  assigned  to 
Shakespeare  by  Capell  in  1760 ;  Sir  Thomas  More,  an 
old  play  of  about  1587,  preserved  in  manuscript  until 
edited  by  Dyce  in  1844  and  assigned  to  Shakespeare  by 
Richard  Simpson  in  1871.  There  is  no  evidence  for 
the  ascription  of  various  portions  of  these  plays  to 
Shakespeare,  except  that  certain  passages  seem  to  some 
critics  characteristic  of  him.     But  at  the  date  when  the 


i6a        t&ty  jfacts  about  £>&afee0peare 

three  plays  were  written  his  style  had  not  attained 
its  characteristic  individuality ;  and  the  assignment  of 
these  anonymous  plays  to  any  particular  author 
neglects  the  obvious  fact  that  many  writers  of  that 
period  present  similar  traits  of  versification  and  imagery. 
The  attribution  to  Shakespeare  of  the  Countess  of 
Salisbury  episode  in  Edward  III,  parts  of  the  insur- 
rection scenes  in  Sir  Thomas  More,  and  a  few  passages 
in  Arden  of  Feversham  has  scarcely  any  warrant  beyond 
the  enthusiastic  admiration  of  certain  critics  for  these 
passages. 

Thus  only  one  play  of  the  Shakespeare  Apocrypha  has 
any  considerable  claim  to  admission  into  the  canon. 
The  evidence  for  his  participation  in  The  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen  is  about  as  strong  as  in  Pericles,  and  the  part 
assigned  to  him  is  fairly  comparable  with  his  contribu- 
tion to  Henry  VIII. 

An  account  of  the  Shakespeare  Apocrypha  is,  however, 
incomplete  without  reference  to  the  forgeries  of  docu- 
ments or  plays.  Theobald  published  Double  Falsehood 
in  1728,  as  based  on  a  seventeenth-century  manuscript 
which  he  conjectured  to  be  by  Shakespeare.  John 
Jordan,  a  resident  of  Stratford,  forged  the  will  of  Shake- 
speare's father,  and  probably  some  other  papers  in  his 
Collections,  1780 ;  William  Henry  Ireland,  with  the  aid 
of  his  father,  produced  in  1796  a  volume  of  forged  papers 
purporting  to  relate  to  Shakespeare's  career,  and  on 
April  2,  1796,  Sheridan  and  Kemble  presented  at  Drury 
Lane  the  tragedy  of  Vortigern,  really  by  Ireland,  but 


jForgertesf  163 

said  by  him  to  have  been  found  among  Shakespeare's 
manuscripts.  Ireland  was  exposed  by  Malone,  and 
he  published  a  confession  of  his  forgeries  in  1805. 
More  skilful  and  far  more  disturbing  to  Shakespearean 
scholarship  are  the  forgeries  of  John  Payne  Collier, 
extending  over  a  period  from  1835  to  1849.  These 
included  manuscript  corrections  in  a  copy  of  the  second 
Folio,  and  many  documents  concerning  the  biography  of 
Shakespeare  and  the  history  of  the  Elizabethan  theater. 
These  forgeries  have  vitiated  many  of  Collier's  most 
important  publications,  as  his  Memoirs  of  Edward 
Alleyn,  and  History  of  English  Dramatic  Poetry. 

We  turn  now  from  attempts  to  increase  Shakespeare's 
writings  to  an  extraordinary  effort  to  deny  him  the 
authorship  of  all  his  plays.  Doubts  on  this  score 
seem  to  have  been  raised  by  Joseph  C.  Hart  in  his 
Romance  of  Yachting,  1848,  and  by  an  article  in  Cham- 
bers' Journal,  August  7,  1852.  In  1856,  Mr.  W.  H. 
Smith  first  proposed  Bacon's  authorship  in  a  letter  to 
Lord  Ellesmere,  "Was  Lord  Bacon  the  author  of 
Shakespeare's  plays?"  These  were  followed  by  an 
article  by  Miss  Delia  Bacon  in  Putnam's  Monthly,  1856, 
and  a  volume,  The  Philosophy  of  the  Plays  of  Shake- 
speare unfolded  by  Delia  Bacon.  Since  Miss  Bacon's 
book,  her  hypothesis  has  resulted  in  the  publication 
of  hundreds  of  volumes  and  pamphlets  supporting 
many  variations  of  the  theory.  Some  are  content  to 
view  the  authorship  as  a  mystery,  assigning  the  plays 
to  an  unknown  author.     Others  attribute  the  author- 


164        W$z  ifacts;  about  g^afeespeare 

ship  to  a  club  of  distinguished  men,  or  to  Sir  Anthony 
Shirley,  or  the  Earl  of  Rutland,  or  another.  Others 
give  Bacon  only  a  portion  of  the  plays,  as  those  con- 
taining many  legal  terms.  The  majority,  however, 
are  thoroughgoing  "Baconians,"  and  the  most  pro- 
digious cases  of  misapplied  ingenuity  have  been  the 
efforts  to  find  in  the  First  Folio  a  cipher,  by  which  cer- 
tain letters  are  selected  which  proclaim  Bacon's  au- 
thorship ;  as  The  Great  Cryptogram,  1887,  by  Ignatius 
Donnelly,  and  The  Bi-Literal  Cypher  of  Francis  Bacon, 
1900,  by  Mrs.  Gallup.  Such  cyphers  are  mutually 
destructive,  and  their  absurdity  has  been  repeatedly 
demonstrated.  Either  they  will  not  work  without 
much  arbitrary  manipulation,  or  they  work  too  well  and 
are  found  to  indicate  Bacon's  authorship  of  literature 
written  before  his  birth  and  after  his  death.  Yet  simi- 
lar '  discoveries  '  continue  to  be  announced. 

The  evidences  supporting  Shakespeare's  authorship 
have  been  set  forth  sufficiently  in  this  volume  and 
offer  no  basis  for  an  attitude  of  skepticism.  A  few 
considerations  may  be  recalled  as  correctives  for  a 
partial  or  mistaken  reading  of  the  evidence.  (1) 
Though  the  records  of  Shakespeare's  life  are  meager, 
they  are  fuller  than  for  any  other  Elizabethan  drama- 
tist. Indeed  we  know  little  of  the  biography  of  any 
men  of  the  sixteenth  century  unless  their  lives  affected 
church  or  politics  and  hence  found  preservation  in 
the  records.  There  is  no  'mystery'  about  Shakespeare. 
(2)    Records    amply    establish    the    identity    between 


tE^e  •«  Baconian  "  Question         165 

Shakespeare  the  actor  and  the  writer.  Moreover,  the 
plays  contain  many  words  and  phrases  natural  to  an 
actor,  many  references  to  the  actor's  art,  and  show  a 
wide  and  detailed  knowledge  of  the  ways  and  peculiari- 
ties of  the  theater.  (3)  The  extent  of  observation  and 
knowledge  in  the  plays  is,  indeed,  remarkable,  but  it 
is  not  accompanied  by  any  indication  of  thorough 
scholarship,  or  a  detailed  connection  with  any  profession 
outside  of  the  theater,  or  a  profound  knowledge  of 
the  science  or  philosophy  of  the  time.  (4)  The  law 
terms  are  numerous,  and  usually  correct,  but  do  not 
establish  any  great  knowledge  of  the  law.  Elizabethan 
London  was  full  of  law  students  who  were  among 
frequent  patrons  of  the  theater.  Through  acquaint- 
ance with  these  gentlemen  Shakespeare  might  have 
readily  acquired  all  the  law  that  he  displays.  Moreover 
Shakespeare  had  an  opportunity  to  gain  a  considerable 
familiarity  with  the  law  through  the  frequent  litigations 
in  which  he  and  his  father  were  concerned.  (5)  The 
dedication,  commendatory  poems,  and  address  to  the 
readers  prefixed  to  the  First  Folio  ought  in  themselves 
to  be  sufficient  to  remove  the  skepticism  as  to  Shake- 
speare's authorship. 

The  following  considerations  apply  to  the  attribu- 
tion to  Bacon,  so  far  as  that  rests  on  any  tangible 
basis :  (1)  Sir  Tobie  Matthews  writes  in  a  letter  to 
Bacon,  written  some  time  later  than  January,  1621, 
"The  most  prodigious  wit  that  ever  I  knew  of  my  na- 
tion and  of  this  side  of  the  sea  is  of  your  Lordship's 


166        GPtje  jfacts  about  g>t)ake0peare 

name,  though  he  be  known  by  another."  The  sentence 
probably  refers  to  Father  Thomas  Southwell,  a  Jesuit, 
whose  real  surname  was  Bacon.  There  is  nothing  to 
connect  it  with  Shakespeare.  (2)  The  parallelisms 
between  passages  in  Shakespeare  and  Bacon  deal  with 
phrases  in  common  use  and  fail  to  establish  any  con- 
nection between  the  two  men.  (3)  The  few  surviving 
examples  of  Bacon's  verse  suggest  no  ability  as  a 
poet.  (4)  Bacon's  life  is  well  known,  and  it  offers  no 
hint  of  connection  with  the  theaters  and  no  space  in 
its  crowded  annals  for  the  production  of  Shakespeare's 
plays.  In  fact,  if  we  had  to  find  an  author  for  Shake- 
speare's plays  among  writers  of  the  sixteenth  and  seven- 
teenth centuries,  Bacon  would  be  about  the  last  person 
conceivable. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Shakespeare  since  1616 

During  Shakespeare's  lifetime,  his  plays  were  men- 
tioned and  imitated  as  often  as  those  of  any  of  his 
contemporaries.  The  more  important  documents  bear- 
ing on  his  growing  reputation  have  already  been  noted 
in  this  volume.  This  popularity,  however,  was  con- 
fined to  theater-goers  and  the  readers  of  the  sixteen 
plays  that  had  appeared  before  1616.  There  was  no 
opportunity  for  a  full  estimate  of  his  plays  as  litera- 
ture until  their  publication  in  the  Folio  of  1623.  This 
is  given  full  and  worthy  expression  in  the  fine  verses 
which  Ben  Jonson  contributed  as  a  preface  to  the  Folio. 
He  had  girded  at  several  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  and 
his  own  views  of  the  principles  and  practices  of  the 
dramatic  art  were  largely  opposed  to  Shakespeare's, 
but  he  took  this  opportunity  to  express  unstinted  ap- 
preciation of  Shakespeare's  greatness.  He  notes  with 
discrimination  that  Shakespeare  learned  his  art  in  an 
earlier  day,  but  far  outshone  Kyd,  Lyly,  and  Marlowe. 

Soul  of  the  Age 
The  applause  !  delight !  the  wonder  of  our  Stage  ! 

He  may  challenge  comparison  with  the  great  Greek 
tragedians,  or  in  comedies 

167 


168        {Etje  jFacts  about  §>ljafeesfpeare 

Of  all  that  insolent  Greece  or  haughty  Rome 
Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come. 

He  was  not  of  an  age  but  for  all  time  ! 

The  magnitude  of  Shakespeare's  achievement  was  thus 
enthusiastically  proclaimed  by  the  literary  dictator  of 
the  time. 

From  1623,  until  the  closing  of  the  theaters,  the 
plays  continued  favorites  on  the  stage,  though  they 
yielded  somewhat  in  the  current  taste  to  the  theatrical 
successes  of  Fletcher  and  Massinger.  After  1623,  they 
continued  to  be  read  and  admired,  as  is  shown  by 
the  publication  of  the  second  and  third  folios  in  1632 
and  1663-1664,  and  by  many  appreciations,  includ- 
ing those  of  D'Avenant,  Suckling,  the  Duchess  of  New- 
castle, and  Milton.  At  the  Restoration  many  of  the 
plays  were  at  once  revived  on  the  stage,  and  Dry- 
den's  essay  Of  Dramatick  Poesie  (1668)  summed  up 
in  a  masterly  fashion  contemporary  opinion  on  Shake- 
speare. He  is  compared  with  other  great  dramatists, 
and  is  declared  less  correct  than  Jonson  and  less 
popular  and  modern  than  Beaumont  and  Fletcher, 
yet  is  "the  man  who  of  all  Moderns,  and  perhaps 
Ancient  Poets,  had  the  largest  and  most  comprehensive 
soul." 

The  Restoration  was  in  some  doubt  about  Shake- 
speare, for  while  it  found  in  him  much  to  admire,  it 
also  found  much  to  condemn.  His  plays  now  had  the 
advantage  of  women  actors  for  the  female  parts,  but 


®\)t  £>ebenteent^  Century  169 

they  encountered  changed  fashions  in  the  theater.  The 
romantic  comedies  were  not  to  the  taste  of  the  time,  and 
disappeared  from  the  stage  until  toward  the  middle  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Meanwhile,  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor  was  the  most  popular  and  most  highly 
esteemed  of  his  comedies.  The  tragedies  attracted  the 
genius  of  Betterton  and  were  constantly  acted,  but  these 
were  subject  to  revision  of  various  kinds.  Hamlet  and 
Othello  held  their  places  without  alterations,  but  Nahum 
Tate's  tame  version  of  King  Lear  and  Cibber's  version 
of  Richard  III  superseded  the  originals  for  many  years. 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  too,  gave  way  to  Otway's  Caius 
Marius,  1692,  which  kept  large  portions  of  Shake- 
speare's play ;  and  Antony  and  Cleopatra  yielded  place 
on  the  stage  to  Dryden's  fine  All  for  Love  (1678),  in 
the  style  of  which  he  professes  to  imitate  the  "divine 
Shakespeare."  By  1692,  adaptations  had  also  been 
made  of  Troilm  and  Cressida,  The  Tempest,  Macbeth, 
The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  Timon,  Richard  II,  Coriolanus, 
Henry  VI,  Cymbeline,  Titles  Andronicus,  Jidius  C&sar. 
A  great  deal  of  contempt  has  been  visited  upon  these 
revisions  of  Shakespeare,  and  their  attempts  to  im- 
prove on  him  are  usually  feeble  enough ;  but  sufficient 
recognition  has  not  been  given  to  the  testimony  that 
these  revisors  bear  to  a  great  appreciation  and  admira- 
tion of  Shakespeare.  They  tried  to  adapt  him  to 
current  metrical  conventions,  to  current  literary 
fashions,  to  an  idea  of  art  quite  foreign  to  his,  but 
they   made   these   efforts   because   they   admired   his 


170        Wqt  ifactsf  about  £>t)ake0peare 

genius.     If   they   did   not    admire   everything   in   his 
thirty-seven  plays,  they  admired  a  great  deal. 

Further,  these  revisions  are  the  outcome  of  critical 
strictures  on  the  plays  which  were  then  common  and. 
in  essence,  have  been  frequently  repeated.  Critics  g'o- 
jected  to  the  irregularity  and  confusion  of  their  struc- 
ture, to  their  disregard  of  the  unities  of  action,  their  mix- 
ture of  tragic  and  comic,  their  obscurity  and  archaism 
of  diction,  their  mixed  and  confused  figures,  their  occa- 
sional puns  and  bombast.  These  are  substantially  the 
criticisms  that  Dryden  offers  when  under  the  influence 
of  Rymer.  Rymer  himself  (A  Short  View  of  Tragedy, 
1693)  goes  much  farther.  He  desires  tragedy  to  give 
a  rationalized  view  of  life,  dealing  poetic  justice  to 
various  typical  persons,  and  consequently  condemns 
Shakespeare's  persons  as  too  individual,  his  plots  as 
too  irregular,  and  the  total  effect  of  his  plays  as  in- 
sufficiently didactic  and  moral.  This  view  of  tragedy 
was  mainly  due  to  the  rationalistic  and  classical 
ideas  which  continued  for  a  century  to  dominate 
European  criticism.  But  before  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury was  over,  Shakespeare's  growing  reputation  had 
proved  itself  a  rock  against  which  the  tendencies  in 
criticism  had  broken  like  unavailing  waves.  However 
much  they  might  insist  on  rules  in  art,  critics  were 
generally  willing  to  hail  Shakespeare  as  the  great  ex- 
ception. Champions  were  ready  to  answer  Rymer  and 
to  defend  Shakespeare.  Othello,  selected  by  Rymer  for 
special  analysis  and  condemnation,  continued  to  hold 


flHUtoenmg  influence  17s 

its  place  on  the  stage  and  to  incite  dramatists  to 
emulation.  The  plays  continued  to  be  read,  and  new 
editions  were  demanded.  In  the  forty  years  from  1660 
to  1700,  in  spite  of  great  changes  in  theatrical  condi- 
tions, in  spite  of  changes  of  taste  in  readers  that 
relegated  most  of  Elizabethan  drama  to  neglect,  and 
in  spite  of  the  formation  of  a  criticism  doubtful  or 
neglectful  of  the  very  qualities  in  literature  that  his 
plays  present,  Shakespeare  continued  to  win  admirers. 
By  1700  he  was  recognized  as  a  dramatist  and  poet  who 
was  one  of  the  great  possessions  of  the  English  race. 

In  the  two  centuries  since,  Shakespeare's  fame  and 
influence  have  spread  and  multiplied  to  an  extent 
difficult  to  characterize  justly  in  a  brief  summary. 
Some  important  evidences  of  this  growth  may  indeed 
be  collected  and  analyzed.  The  position  and  impor- 
tance of  his  plays  on  the  stage,  the  ever  increasing 
number  of  editions,  the  changing  attitudes  of  critics 
and  men  of  letters  —  on  these  matters  it  is  not  diffi- 
cult to  draw  conclusions  as  to  Shakespeare's  influence 
at  home  and  abroad.  But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  say 
what  his  influence  was  on  the  literature  of  any  genera- 
tion, and  still  less  easy  to  summarize  with  certainty 
the  effects  on  thought  and  feeling  and  conduct  which 
made  up  his  continuing  power  over  generation  after 
generation  of  readers.  This  much  is  clear,  that  a 
study  of  Shakespeare's  influence  is  in  part  a  study  of 
changing  ideas  and  ideals  in  literature  —  that  as  he 
survived  the  Restoration  taste,  so  he  survived  the  new 


i73        1&ty  jfacta  about  ^afeespeare 

classicism  of  the  eighteenth  and  the  romanticism  of 
the  early  nineteenth  century.  It  is  also  clear  that  a 
full  record  of  the  influence  of  Shakespeare  on  English- 
speaking  readers  would  touch  on  almost  all  the  varied 
changes  of  thought  and  conduct  that  have  entered  into 
the  history  of  two  centuries. 

The  most  important  of  the  successive  editions  of 
Shakespeare  from  that  of  Nicholas  Rowe,  1709,  to  the 
present  time,  have  been  noted  in  the  history  of  the 
text  in  Chapter  VII.  It  must  be  observed  that  these 
various  publications  indicate  not  only  progress  toward 
establishing  a  sound  text,  but  also  a  constantly  increas- 
ing number  of  readers.  The  multiplication  of  editions 
kept  pace  with  the  vast  extension  of  the  middle-class 
interest  in  literature.  By  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  the  works  of  Shakespeare  were  in  the  posses- 
sion of  everyone  who  had  a  library,  and  with  a  text 
and  notes  that  left  few  difficulties  for  a  person  of  any 
education. 

The  nineteenth  century  well  maintained  the  tradi- 
tion of  earlier  scholarship.  Malone's  extensive  anti- 
quarian knowledge  of  Elizabethan  drama  and  theater 
served  as  the  basis  for  further  research  in  these  fields 
by  Dyce,  Ward,  Fleay,  and  others.  The  chronological 
order  of  the  plays,  which  Malone  was  the  first  to  in- 
vestigate, was  determined  with  considerable  certainty 
and  gave  a  new  significance  to  the  study  of  Shake- 
speare's work  as  a  whole.  Dyce,  Sidney  Walker,  and 
Wright,  Delius  of  the  Germans,  Richard  Grant  White 


<®n  t\)t  £>tage  173 

of  the  Americans,  are  a  few  among  the  long  list  of 
scholars  who  have  added  notable  emendations  and  illus- 
trative notes.  Editions  of  the  collected  works  indeed 
soon  became  almost  too  numerous  for  record,  and  the 
number  of  readings,  notes,  and  illustrations  too  great 
for  collection  even  in  the  largest  variorum.  To-day 
the  task  of  scholarship  may  lie  in  the  restriction,  sim- 
plification, and  final  determination  of  certain  varying 
editorial  practices  rather  than  in  the  accumulation  of 
further  illustrative  and  appreciative  comment.  But 
to  the  work  of  adding  new  editions  there  can  be  no 
end  so  long  as  the  number  of  readers  increases.  Vol- 
umes of  all  sizes,  for  many  classes,  following  various 
editorial  methods,  are  likely  to  continue  to  meet  the 
changing  but  ever  increasing  demands  of  English- 
speaking  readers.  At  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury Shakespeare's  works  were  not  merely  a  household 
possession,  they  were  to  be  had  in  every  possible  form 
to  suit  every  possible  taste  or  convenience. 

The  extension  of  Shakespeare's  popularity  on  the 
stage  was  concurrent  with  this  widening  range  of 
readers.  In  the  first  thirty  years  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  which  marked  a  revolution  in  the  nature  of 
the  drama  and  the  taste  of  the  audiences,  Shakespeare's 
tragedies  continued  to  be  among  the  most  frequently 
acted  stock  plays  at  the  two  patented  theaters.  The 
middle  of  the  century  saw  the  revival  of  most  of  the 
romantic  comedies  and  the  appearance  of  David  Gar- 
rick.     Some  of  the  adaptations  continued,  but  others 


174         Gtfje  ifactflf  about  £>i)atopeare 

were  displaced  by  genuine  Shakespeare,  as  in  Macbeth, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  and  Romeo  and  Juliet.  All's 
Well  That  Ends  Well,  As  You  Like  It,  Cymbeline,  Much 
Ado,  Twelfth  Night,  The  Winter's  Tale,  were  all  revived. 
In  fact,  if  we  include  adaptations,  every  play  of  Shake- 
speare was  seen  on  the  stage  during  the  eighteenth 
century,  with  the  exceptions  of  2  and  3  Henry  VI,  only 
parts  of  these  appearing,  and  of  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
of  which  a  version  prepared  for  acting  was  published 
in  1762  but  not  produced. 

The  traditions  of  Betterton  had  been  carried  on  by 
Wilks  (1670-1732),  Barton  Booth  (1681-1733),  Colley 
Cibber  (1671-1757),  and  others.  But  the  prevailing 
manner  was  condemned  as  stiff  and  lifeless  in  com- 
parison with  the  energy  of  Garrick's  presentation. 
From  his  first  triumph  in  Richard  III  in  1741,  to  his 
farewell  performance  of  Lear  in  1776,  he  won  a  series 
of  signal  successes  in  both  tragedy  and  comedy,  in 
Hamlet,  Lear,  Macbeth,  Richard  III,  Falconbridge, 
Romeo,  Hotspur,  Iago,  Leontes,  Posthumus,  Benedick, 
and  Antony.  Garrick's  services  to  Shakespeare  ex- 
tended beyond  the  parts  which  he  impersonated.  He 
revived  many  plays,  and  though  he  garbled  the  texts 
freely,  yet  in  comparison  with  earlier  practice  he  really 
had  some  right  to  boast  that  he  had  restored  the  text  of 
Shakespeare  to  the  stage.  Further,  his  example  led 
to  an  increased  popularity  of  Shakespeare  in  the  theater 
and  afforded  new  incentives  for  other  actors.  Mrs. 
Clive,  Mrs.  Cibber,  and   Mrs.  Pritchard  were  among 


&nnble  ano  &ean  175 

the  women  who  acted  with  Garrick.  Macklin,  by  his 
revival  of  Shylock  as  a  tragic  character,  Henderson  by 
his  impersonation  of  Falstaff,  and  John  Palmer  in 
secondary  characters,  as  Iago,  Mercutio,  Touchstone, 
and  Sir  Toby,  were  his  contemporaries  most  famous 
in  their  day. 

Garrick's  place  at  the  head  of  the  English  stage  was 
taken  by  John  Philip  Kemble  (1757-1823),  an  actor 
of  great  dignity  of  presence  and  manner,  who  won 
general  admiration  in  the  great  tragic  parts,  especially 
those  offering  opportunities  for  declamation.  His 
sister,  Mrs.  Sarah  Siddons,  was  doubtless  the  greatest 
of  English  actresses ;  her  Lady  Macbeth,  Queen  Kather- 
ine,  and  Constance  overwhelmed  her  audiences  by 
their  majesty  and  passion.  Kemble's  reputation  was 
surpassed  by  Edmund  Kean,  whose  appearance  as 
Shylock  in  1819,  at  Drury  Lane,  was  the  first  of  a 
series  of  great  successes  in  most  of  the  tragic  parts, 
including  Hamlet,  Lear,  Othello,  and  Richard  III.  In 
contrast  to  Kemble's  declamation,  Kean's  acting  was 
vehement  and  passionate.  Coleridge  declared  that  to 
see  him  was  "reading  Shakespeare  by  flashes  of  light- 
ning." Readers  of  the  dramatic  criticism  of  Hazlitt 
and  Lamb  will  recall  tributes  to  Kean  and  to  other 
favorite  actors,  especially  perhaps  their  praise  of  Mrs. 
Jordan's  Viola  and  Rosalind.  Macready  for  forty  years 
maintained  the  great  traditions  of  English  acting,  and 
during  his  managements  of  Drury  Lane  sought  to  re- 
tain for  Shakespeare's  plays  their  preeminence  on  the 


176        tEtje  jFacta  about  £>\)uktsptm 

stage.  Associated  with  his  many  impersonations  were 
those  of  Mrs.  Warner  and  Helen  Faucit  (Lady  Martin). 
From  Garrick's  debut  to  the  retirement  of  Macready 
(1851)  is  a  century  of  great  actors  and  actresses  who 
brought  to  the  interpretation  of  the  many  characters 
of  the  plays  a  skill  and  intelligence  that  satisfied  the 
most  critical  theater-goers  and  extended  vastly  the 
appreciation  and  knowledge  of  Shakespeare's  men  and 
women. 

Shakespeare's  position  on  the  stage  was,  however, 
maintained  only  with  difficulty  against  the  melodramas, 
musical  farces,  and  spectacles  that  absorbed  the  theaters. 
Yet  from  1844  to  1862,  Samuel  Phelps,  at  Sadler's 
Wells,  presented  thirty-one  of  the  plays.  Since  then 
the  stage  has  hardly  seen  an  equally  important  revival ; 
but  the  great  traditions  of  acting  have  been  carried  on 
by  many  eminent  actors :  Sir  Henry  Irving,  Ellen 
Terry,  Forbes  Robertson,  in  England ;  Edwin  Forrest, 
Edwin  Booth,  Junius  Brutus  Booth,  Charlotte  Cush- 
man,  Ada  Rehan,  Julia  Marlowe,  and  Edward  Sothern 
in  America.  Lately,  successful  attempts  have  been 
made  to  perform  plays  in  the  Elizabethan  manner,  and 
perhaps  there  is  a  tendency  to  pay  less  attention  to 
elaborate  scenic  presentation  than  was  the  habit  during 
the  last  of  the  nineteenth  century.  In  one  respect,  at 
least,  the  present  offers  a  decided  improvement  on  the 
past,  for  there  is  now  a  strong  sentiment  in  favor  of  as 
close  an  adherence  as  possible  to  an  authorized  text  of 
the  plays. 


W$t  (Eigljteentt)  Century  177 

Shakespeare  has  held  his  place  on  the  stage  in  spite 
of  many  and  great  changes  in  theatrical  conditions  and 
dramatic  taste.  He  will  probably  survive  changes 
greater  than  those  which  separate  the  picture  stage 
with  its  electric  lights  from  the  projecting  open-air 
platform  of  his  own  day,  or  than  those  which  separate 
the  dramas  of  Ibsen,  Shaw,  and  Barrie  from  those  of 
Lxarlowe  and  Fletcher,  or  the  cinematograph  and 
comic  opera  from  the  bear-baiting  and  jugglery  which 
rivaled  the  Globe.  The  visitor  who  scans,  in  the 
Stratford  Museum,  the  curious  collection  of  portraits 
of  actors  and  actresses  in  Shakespearean  parts  may 
wonder  what  peculiarities  of  costume,  manner,  and 
expression  will  be  devised  for  the  admired  interpreta- 
tions of  the  centuries  to  come.  But  it  hardly  seems 
possible  that  any  actor  of  the  future  will  influence  as 
greatly  the  appreciation  of  Shakespeare's  characters 
and  speeches  as  did  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Siddons  in  Eng- 
land or  Edwin  Booth  in  America. 

Shakespearean  criticism  in  the  eighteenth  century 
was,  as  has  been  noted,  largely  textual,  but  there  was 
also  a  considerable  discussion  of  Shakespeare's  learn- 
ing, his  art,  and  its  violations  of  neo-classical  theory. 
John  Dennis,  in  his  Letters,  1711,  proved  a  sturdy  ad- 
mirer, and  the  consensus  of  opinion  of  following  writers 
was  that  of  Sedley's  couplet  which  described  Shakespeare 
as 

The  pride  of  Nature,  and  the  shame  of  Schools, 
Born  to  Create,  and  not  to  Learn  from  Rules. 

N 


178         Qtt)t  jfacts  about  &\)akvspme 

Voltaire's  attacks  brought  rejoinders  from  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Montagu  in  1769  and  from  Dr.  Johnson  in  the 
preface  to  his  edition,  1765.  In  fact,  admiration  for 
Shakespeare  was  a  powerful  factor  in  forcing  the  rejec- 
tion of  rules  and  standards  of  French  criticism.  John- 
son's Preface  finds  fault  with  Shakespeare's  neglect  of 
poetic  justice  and  dwells  at  length  on  the  faults  in 
plots  and  diction,  but  Johnson  defends  the  violation  of 
the  unities,  and  his  praise  is  a  discriminating  summary 
of  the  merits  that  the  eighteenth  century  had  found 
in  Shakespeare.     It  is  praise  that  is  likely  to  endure. 

Within  another  generation,  however,  reverence  for 
Shakespeare  had  increased  to  an  intensity  that  made 
Johnson's  admiration  seem  feeble  and  niggardly.  This 
transformation  was  due  to  many  causes,  but  in  the  main 
it  was  a  part  of  the  vast  changes  in  European  literature 
known  as  the  Romantic  movement.  This  resulted  in 
a  rejection  of  the  rules  and  models  of  neo-classicism,  a 
new  interest  in  the  literature  and  manners  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  a  conception  of  poetry  as  the  expression 
of  individuality,  attention  to  the  individual  man  in  all 
orders  of  society,  a  fresh  concern  for  external  nature, 
an  emphasis  on  the  emotions  rather  than  mere  reason, 
a  desire  for  wonder  and  mystery,  and  an  exaltation  of 
natural  instincts  and  intuitions  as  opposed  to  general 
truths  or  social  conventions.  In  each  of  these  particu- 
lars, Shakespeare  seemed  the  complete  fulfilment  of  the 
new  tendencies  —  which  indeed  his  growing  influence 
had  undoubtedly  encouraged.     More  than  Spenser  or 


Appreciative  €xititi8m  179 

Milton  or  the  old  ballads,  he  was  the  inspiration  and 
guide  for  new  endeavors  in  literature.  It  seemed  to 
the  new  age  of  critics  and  poets  that  they  had  redis- 
covered him,  and  they  hastened  to  raise  hini  from  neg- 
lect to  the  throne  of  omniscience.  He  was  no  longer  a 
wayward  genius,  he  was  the  model  from  whom  art  and 
wisdom  were  to  be  learned. 

This  new  criticism  was  esthetic  and  appreciative. 
It  did  not  try  to  balance  Shakespeare's  merits  and 
faults,  or  to  test  him  by  codes  of  arts  or  morals.  It 
recognized  him  as  supreme,  and  its  discipleship  was 
devoted  to  reverent  interpretation  and  enthusiastic 
admiration.  Believing  in  the  importance  of  the  poetic 
imagination  in  the  affairs  of  men,  it  found  in  him  a 
gospel  and  an  example  for  its  creed.  Its  delightful 
task  was  to  find  new  beauties  and  to  search  out  the 
hiding-places  that  revealed  the  god  of  its  idolatry. 
If  the  genius  of  the  master-poet  was  the  source  of  art 
and  wisdom,  the  personality  of  the  critic  gained  a  new 
refulgence  through  its  service  of  reflecting  the  rays  of 
glory.  The  interest  in  the  study  of  individual  charac- 
ters had  resulted,  even  in  Johnson's  day,  in  some  not- 
able interpretive  essays,  as  Maurice  Morgann's  on 
Falstaff  (1777).  In  the  next  generation,  Coleridge, 
Lamb,  and  Hazlitt  in  England,  and  Schlegel  and 
Goethe  in  Germany,  brought  the  keenest  intelligence 
and  most  sympathetic  taste  to  a  criticism  that  aspired 
to  reveal  the  full  range  and  height  of  Shakespeare's 
creative  faculty. 


180        W$z  jfacta  about  gs^afeespeare 

The  results  of  this  criticism  may  be  more  specifically 
summarized.  (1)  It  viewed  the  individual  characters 
of  the  plays  as  if  they  were  real  persons,  analyzing  their 
motives  and  elaborating  or  repainting  their  portraits, 
as  in  the  analyses  of  Hamlet  by  Goethe  and  Coleridge, 
or  in  the  brilliant  sketches  of  Hazlitt.  The  few  hun- 
dred lines  spoken  by  a  leading  character  have  thus 
been  expanded  by  the  impressions  made  on  successive 
critics  into  volumes  of  biography.  (2)  Shakespeare's 
works  were  studied  as  a  whole  in  an  effort  to  study 
the  development  of  his  art  and  mind.  Schlegel  and 
Coleridge  gave  a  unity  to  the  phenomena  of  the  thirty- 
seven  plays  that  had  not  been  recognized  hitherto; 
but  they  and  their  followers  naturally  tended  to  make 
of  their  author  a  sort  of  nineteenth-century  romanticist. 
(3)  Exalting  the  services  of  poetry  and  the  creative 
imagination,  they  viewed  Shakespeare's  exhibition  of 
human  nature  and  his  incidental  wisdom  as  profound, 
consistent,  and  immensely  valuable  for  the  human  race. 
Hence  they  were  ever  seeking  in  his  work  for  a  phi- 
losophy, a  synthetic  ethics,  and  making  the  widest 
applications  of  his  words  to  conduct.  Believing  that 
he  could  do  no  wrong,  they  inevitably  came  to  attrib- 
ute to  him  ideas  and  morals  that  were  of  their  own 
creation. 

The  defects  of  this  criticism  are  most  apparent  in 
critics  like  Ulrici  and  Gervinus  who  carry  its  methods 
to  extremes.  Personal,  fanciful,  unhistorical,  idola- 
trous, it  is  yet  a  tremendous  tribute  and  an  amazing 


GTlje  jftineteenttj  Century  181 

record  of  the  sway  that  Shakespeare  has  exerted  on  the 
human  mind.  The  writings  of  no  other  man  have 
been  studied  so  intimately  by  so  many  sympathetic 
readers,  or  have  excited  such  different  impressions. 
Throughout  the  nineteenth  century  this  appreciative 
criticism  has  continued,  and  Shakespeare  has  been 
interpreted  through  the  personality  of  many  critics, 
German  and  American,  as  well  as  British,  more  recently 
through  the  delicate  sensibility  of  Professor  Dowden, 
and  the  penetrating  reflection  of  Professor  A.  C.  Bradley. 
At  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  century,  Shakespearean 
criticism  has  become  too  varied  for  a  brief  survey. 
Textual  and  esthetic  criticism  both  continue.  The 
biography  has  been  established  on  a  sound  basis  of 
fact  by  Halliwell-Phillipps  and  Sidney  Lee ;  and  still 
new  facts  reward  patient  investigators  of  the  legal  and 
court  documents,  almost  the  only  records  preserved 
that  can  possibly  bear  on  Shakespeare's  life.  Special 
studies  of  all  sorts  have  been  numerous,  as  to  his 
reading,  religion,  folk-lore,  and  so  on.  More  signifi- 
cant in  its  effect  on  our  general  view  have  been  the 
efforts  of  historical  criticism.  As  our  knowledge  of 
Elizabethan  literature,  drama,  theater,  have  increased, 
it  has  been  possible  to  see  Shakespeare  in  relation 
to  his  time  and  environment.  The  study  of  Shake- 
speare as  a  sixteenth-century  dramatist  aims  not 
merely  at  a  better  appreciation  of  his  work,  but  also 
to  explain  his  development  and  to  account  for  some  of 
the  qualities  of  his  achievement.     Its  attitude  is  that 


i8a        Wfyt  ifactsf  about  £tyafee$peare 

of  the  scientific  historian  examining  the  records  of  any 
great  human  activity,  and  trying  to  understand  its 
causes,  results,  and  meaning.  Somewhat  allied  to  this 
has  been  technical  dramatic  criticism,  which  is  uniting 
knowledge  of  the  Elizabethan  theater  with  interest  in 
drama  as  a  peculiar  form,  and  thereby  studying  Shake- 
speare as  a  dramatist  rather  than  as  a  poet  or  philos- 
opher. In  fact,  Shakespeare  is  no  longer  merely  man, 
poet,  dramatist,  philosopher,  or  genius.  Jonson's  tribute, 
Dryden's  summary,  Johnson's  judicial  essay,  or  Cole- 
ridge's admiring  studies,  all  seem  hopelessly  inadequate 
to  express  the  range  of  his  dominion.  He  has  become 
the  source  of  the  most  various  and  extensive  interests, 
a  continent  that  ever  expands  its  fields  for  exploration, 
an  epoch  that  ever  extends  the  years  of  its  duration,  a 
race  that  never  dies,  though  its  progeny  ever  multiplies. 
It  is  in  the  nineteenth  century  that  Shakespeare's 
dominance  becomes  international.  Four  of  his  plays 
were  acted  at  Dresden  and  elsewhere  early  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  but  there  seems  to  have  been  no 
literary  acquaintance  with  the  plays  in  Germany  until 
about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century,  when  two 
poor  translations  of  Julius  Coesar  and  Romeo  and  Juliet 
appeared,  and  J.  C.  Gottsched  severely  criticized 
Shakespeare's  art.  In  1759,  in  a  journal,  "Littera- 
turbriefe,"  Lessing  began  a  warm  defense  of  Shake- 
speare and  declared  his  superiority  to  Racine  and  Cor- 
neille.  His  Hamburgische  Dramaturgie  (1767)  went 
far  in  directing  the  change  of  taste  from  French  clas- 


3fln  Germany  183 

sicism  and  in  establishing  Shakespeare  in  German 
thought  as  the  greatest  of  poets,  whether  ancient  or 
modern.  A  prose  translation  was  begun  by  Wieland 
in  1762  and  completed  by  Eschenburg  in  1789.  What 
is  perhaps  the  best  translation  of  Shakespeare  into 
any  foreign  tongue  was  begun  in  1797  by  A.  W.  von 
Schlegel  and  Ludwig  Tieck,  two  leaders  of  German 
romanticism,  and  finally  completed  in  1853.  Schlegel's 
lectures  on  Shakespeare  and  the  Drama  were  delivered 
in  Vienna  in  1808,  and  present  both  the  romanticist's 
idolizing  of  Shakespeare  and  a  new  kind  of  esthetic 
criticism  destined  to  exercise  great  influence  on  Cole- 
ridge and  the  English  critics.  Meanwhile  Goethe  was 
adapting  Romeo  and  Juliet  for  the  Weimar  theater 
(1801)  and  Schiller  was  arranging  Macbeth  for  presen- 
tation at  Stuttgart  (1801).  Goethe  indeed  was,  through- 
out his  life,  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Shakespeare,  and 
his  works  are  full  of  discriminating  criticism,  of  which 
perhaps  the  most  famous  passage  is  the  analysis  of 
Hamlet  in  Wilhelm  Meister.  Since  Lessing  and  Her- 
der, German  poetry  and  drama  have  felt  Shakespeare's 
influence,  and  in  both  textual  and  esthetic  criticism, 
Germany  has  rivaled  England  and  the  United  States. 
Delius  and  Schmidt,  whose  Shakespeare-Lexicon  (1874) 
is  one  of  the  great  monuments  of  Shakespeare  scholar- 
ship, are  perhaps  first  among  textual  students ;  since 
1865  the  German  Shakespeare  Society  has  published 
yearly  contributions  of  all  kinds  to  Shakespeare  criti- 
cism, and  especially  an  excellent  bibliography.     On  the 


184        Wqt  jFacta  about  ^tjakespeare 

stage  Shakespeare  has  been  constantly  acted  since  the 
beginning  of  the  century,  and  has  engaged  the  services 
of  some  of  the  greatest  actors,  as  Schroeder,  the  two 
Devrients,  and  Barnay.  At  present  a  large  number  of  his 
plays  are  performed  annually,  in  the  smaller  as  well  as 
the  larger  cities,  and  more  frequently  than  in  Britain 
or  America.  Twenty-six  of  the  plays  were  acted  in 
1911,  Othello  leading  with  158  performances.  For  the 
years  1909,  1910,  1911,  Hamlet,  Othello,  The  Merchant 
of  Venice  have  been  the  favorites,  with  The  Taming  of 
the  Shrew  and  A  Midsummer -N ighf  s  Dream  the  most 
popular  of  the  comedies.  For  over  a  century  Shake- 
speare has  profoundly  influenced  German  life  and  let- 
ters. Rarely,  if  ever,  has  a  great  people  been  so  power- 
fully affected  by  a  writer  in  a  foreign  tongue. 

In  France,  during  the  eighteenth  century,  Shake- 
speare's reputation  was  both  aided  and  hindered  by 
Voltaire.  Though  there  are  a  few  earlier  notices  of 
the  English  dramatist,  Voltaire,  after  his  visit  to  Eng- 
land, 1720-1729,  was  virtually  the  first  to  win  atten- 
tion for  Shakespeare.  He  admired  Shakespeare, 
acknowledged  his  influence,  but  deplored  his  deficien- 
cies in  taste  and  art,  "le  Corneille  de  Londres,  grand 
fou  d'ailleurs,  mais  il  a  des  morceaux  admirables." 
Voltaire's  criticism  provoked  replies  in  England  and  a 
defense  from  Diderot,  who  shared  with  Lessing  the 
effort  to  emancipate  the  drama  from  some  of  its  neo- 
classical restriction.  Translations  of  twelve  plays  by 
La  Place  (1745-1748)  and  all  of  the  plays  by  Le  Tour- 


3fln  jFranee  185 

neur  (1776-1782)  gave  an  opportunity  for  greater 
acquaintance  with  his  work.  A  version  of  Hamlet  by 
Ducis  was  acted  at  Paris  in  1769.  But  even  at  the 
end  of  the  century,  French  literary  opinion,  though 
partly  won  by  Le  Tourneur's  praise  of  Shakespeare, 
still  sympathized  with  Voltaire,  now  engaged  in  an 
attack  on  Englishmen  and  their  favorite.  His  last 
opinion  (1778)  declares,  "Shakespeare  est  un  sauvage 
avec  des  etincelles  de  genie  qui  brillent  dans  une  nuit 
horrible." 

The  nineteenth  century  saw  a  reaction  from  this 
criticism,  indicated  by  the  praise  of  Madame  de  Stael 
(De  la  Litter ature,  1804),  by  Guizot's  essay  accompany- 
ing a  revision  of  Le  Tourneur's  translation  (1821),  and 
later  in  the  appreciation  of  Mezieres's  Shakespeare  ses 
CEuvres  et  ses  Critiques  (1860),  in  several  translations, 
and  in  Victor  Hugo's  eulogy  (1869).  The  best  of  the 
translations  is  by  the  poet's  son,  Frangois  Victor  Hugo 
in  prose  (1859-1866).  On  the  Paris  stage,  the  leading 
English  actors  have  appeared  from  time  to  time,  and 
French  versions  of  Hamlet,  Macbeth,  and  Othello  have 
made  a  permanent  place.  M.  Jusserand  is  the  chief 
authority  for  the  history  of  Shakespeare  in  France  and 
an  ambassador  of  peace  between  the  conflicting  literary 
tastes  of  the  two  nations. 

In  Italy,  Holland,  Russia,  Poland,  and  Hungary, 
during  the  nineteenth  century,  many  of  the  plays  have 
been  regularly  acted,  and  from  Italy  have  come  great 
actors   and  actresses,   as  Ristori,  Salvini,  and  Rossi. 


186        W$t  iFactsf  about  ^afecsfpeare 

Complete  translations  have  been  published  in  these 
countries  and  in  Bohemian,  Swedish,  Danish,  Finnish, 
and  Spanish ;  and  separate  plays  have  been  translated 
and  acted  in  many  other  languages  including  those  of 
India,  Japan,  and  China. 

In  music  and  painting  Shakespeare's  influence  has 
also  been  international.  Books  have  been  devoted  to 
the  history  of  Shakespeare's  music,  and  such  surveys 
include  nearly  every  English  composer  of  note,  and 
also  Schubert,  Schumann,  Mendelssohn,  Berlioz,  Am- 
broise  Thomas,  Saint  Saens,  Rossini,  and  Verdi.  In 
painting  as  well,  the  persons  and  scenes  of  the  play 
have  excited  the  efforts  of  English,  German,  and  Ameri- 
can artists. 

In  America,  as  has  already  been  indicated,  the  in- 
terest in  Shakespeare  is  hardly  separable  from  that  in 
Great  Britain.  Editors,  critics,  scholars,  have  been 
numerous  and  their  contributions  important,  and  the 
plays  have  been  acted  constantly  and  widely  through 
the  country.  Probably  there  is  no  part  of  the  world 
to-day  where  the  study  of  Shakespeare  is  so  active  and 
where  the  interest  in  his  work  is  so  widespread.  In  one 
respect,  at  least,  the  United  States  in  recent  years  has 
carried  this  study  and  interest  beyond  England,  in  the 
fields  of  education.  As  the  study  of  the  mother  tongue 
has  become  the  basis  of  American  education,  so  Shake- 
speare has  come  to  play  a  more  and  more  important 
part  in  the  training  of  youth.  The  universities  offer 
training  in  the  various  departments  of  Shakespearean 


3f|n  ttje  dlniteo  States;  187 

scholarship,  every  college  offers  courses  on  his  plays,  a 
number  of  them  are  prescribed  for  reading  and  study 
in  the  high  schools ;  a  few  of  them  are  read  and  ex- 
tracts memorized  in  the  primary  schools.  The  child 
begins  his  education  with  Ariel  and  the  fairies,  and 
until  his  schooling  is  completed  is  kept  in  almost  daily 
intercourse  with  the  poetry  and  persons  of  the  dramas. 
Homer  was  not  better  known  in  Athens.  In  a  democ- 
racy still  young  and  widely  separated  from  older 
nations  and  cultures,  Shakespeare  has  become  one  of 
the  links  that  bind  the  American  public  not  only  to 
the  common  inheritances  of  the  English-speaking  races, 
but  to  the  traditional  culture  of  Europe. 

Known  in  the  literature  and  theater  of  every  civilized 
nation,  the  subject  of  a  vast  and  increasing  amount  of 
discussion  and  criticism,  the  source  of  a  scholarship 
rivaling  that  devoted  to  the  writers  of  antiquity,  the 
familiar  theme  for  music  and  painting,  the  household 
possession  of  Great  Britain,  Germany,  and  America, 
influencing  thought  and  conduct  as  few  books  have 
ever  influenced  them,  and  now  an  important  element 
in  the  education  of  a  great  democracy,  —  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare  occupy  a  position  whence  imagination 
"can  not  pierce  a  wink  beyond,  but  doubt  discovery 
there."  His  reputation  and  influence  must  change 
greatly  in  the  years  to  come ;  but  this  at  least  is  secure 
—  three  hundred  years  of  an  ever  increasing  sway  over 
the  human  mind. 


CHAPTER  X 

Conclusion 

The  purpose  of  this  volume  has  been  to  summarize 
what  we  know  about  Shakespeare.  The  documentary 
records  and  early  traditions  of  his  life  have  been  sup- 
plemented by  information  in  regard  to  the  times  and 
places  in  which  he  lived,  the  literature  which  he  read, 
and  the  theaters  for  which  he  worked.  The  evolution 
of  the  drama  that  grew  up  in  those  theaters  has  been 
reviewed,  and  its  manifest  connections  with  Shake- 
speare's own  development  have  been  indicated.  That 
development  has  been  traced  by  means  of  a  careful 
determination  of  the  chronology  of  the  plays ;  and  the 
recognition  of  this  growth  of  his  powers  has  been  shown 
to  be  a  necessary  basis  for  a  just  estimate  of  their 
achievement. 

If,  now,  in  conclusion,  we  attempt  to  define  our 
general  impression  of  the  man  and  his  work,  this 
must  inevitably  take  into  account  considerations  of 
environment  and  development.  The  man  belonged 
to  his  era,  his  city,  and  his  profession.  The  documents 
make  it  plain  that  he  did  not  live  apart,  but  in  close 
contact  with  the  affairs  of  his  day  and  generation. 
The  plays  make  it  clear  that  few  men  ever  became  so 
1 88 


W$z  bonnets:  189 

intimately  familiar  with  the  manners,  morals,  and  ideas 
of  their  own  time.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  drank 
deeply  of  the  experience  that  Elizabethan  London  offered 
him.  Still  more,  the  plays  make  it  clear  that  his  life 
was  one  of  constant  and  extraordinary  intellectual  and 
spiritual  growth.  Though,  from  the  objective  nature 
of  the  dramas,  it  is  impossible  to  translate  them  into 
terms  of  personal  experience  or  into  exact  stages  of 
mental  growth,  yet  it  is  none  the  less  evident  that  the 
progress  from  the  author  of  Love's  Labour  s  Lost  to  the 
author  of  The  Tempest,  from  the  creator  of  Richard  III 
and  Valentine  to  the  creator  of  Iago  and  Antony,  was 
marked,  not  only  by  a  widening  experience,  but  also  by 
a  development  of  personal  character. 

To  understand  a  man's  surroundings  does  not,  how- 
ever, reveal  the  man;  and  to  measure  the  growth  of 
genius  does  not  interpret  its  quality.  Lovers  of  the 
plays  are  likely  always  to  query  :  What  manner  of  man 
was  this  ?  Taken  out  of  his  London,  at  any  time 
in  his  career,  how  would  he  seem  if  we  could  know  him 
as  a  man  ?  Of  what  nature  is  this  companion  and 
friend  whose  presence  we  have  felt  through  all  his 
verses  and  in  all  of  his  characters  ?  The  few  clues  of- 
fered by  records  or  tradition,  and  the  difficulties  in 
separating  the  creator  from  the  thousand  men  and 
women  of  his  creation,  have  driven  many  to  seek  an- 
swers to  these  questions  in  the  sonnets.  There  he 
speaks  in  the  first  person,  and  there  are  revealed  not 
merely  some  dubious  hints    of  actual  incidents,  but 


ipo        W$t  jFacts  about  £>ljatepeare 

the  surer  indications  of  emotional  conflicts  that  went 
to  the  heart  of  the  man's  nature.  At  their  worst, 
the  sonnets  may  have  been  only  literary  exercises  on 
conventional  themes,  but  at  their  best  they  are  surely 
both  superb  poetry  and  the  result  of  genuine  emotion. 
Can  we  doubt  that  the  poet  knew  the  pitfalls  that 
beset  the  course  of  human  passion  or  that  he  had 
faith  in  the  triumphant  beauty  of  love  and  friendship  ? 
Yet  the  most  splendid  of  these  lyrical  declarations  of 
faith  add  little  to  what  we  knew  of  the  creator  of  the 
lovers  and  friends  of  the  dramas.  The  trivialities  and 
the  sublimities,  the  sin  and  the  idealism  of  the  sonnets 
coalesce  with  the  emotional  effects  of  the  comedies  and 
tragedies.  In  forming  our  impression  of  the  man, 
whatever  we  may  derive  from  the  sonnets  does  not 
contradict  and  does  not  largely  affect  the  impressions 
made  by  the  poetry  and  humanity  of  the  plays.  For 
the  conception  which  each  one  forms  of  Shakespeare 
the  man  must  be  derived  in  the  main  from  the  im- 
pressions of  personality  implied  by  the  plays.  Such  a 
conception  is  bound  to  be  individual  and  without 
validity  that  can  rest  on  proofs,  but  in  the  main  it 
has  not  varied  greatly  from  individual  to  individual 
or  from  generation  to  generation.  From  Jonson  and 
Dryden  to  Goethe  and  Tennyson,  there  has  been  no 
great  difference  in  the  essentials  of  this  estimate  of 
the  man. 

If  the  plays  do  not  throw  a  clear  light  on  matters 
of  conduct  and  exercise  of  the  will,  they  certainly  tell 


personality  of  ^tjabes^peare  191 

of  no  lack  of  self-control  and  no  weakness  or  feverishness 
of  action.  The  traditions  of  conviviality  and  the  re- 
cords of  a  life  of  constant  industry  that  secured  wealth 
and  social  position  are  both  in  accord  with  the  impres- 
sions derived  from  the  plays  of  an  eagerness  for  experi- 
ence controlled  by  a  self-mastery  and  a  serenity  of 
purpose.  If  one  were  to  search  for  a  modern  writer 
most  like  Shakespeare,  one  would  select  Scott,  rather 
than  Shelley,  or  Byron,  or  Wordsworth.  As  to  the 
intellectual  quality  of  the  author  of  the  plays,  it  is 
clear  that  he  was  not  a  Galileo  or  a  Bacon.  If  we 
judge  intellectual  power  by  its  creation  of  system  or 
synthesis,  we  shall  probably  estimate  Shakespeare  less 
highly  than  if  we  remember  that  intellect  of  the  high- 
est order  is  often  displayed  by  maintaining  openness  and 
largeness  of  view  in  face  of  the  solicitations  of  theory  or 
prejudice.  No  one  can  read  the  plays  in  connection 
with  the  literature  of  the  time,  or  of  any  time,  without 
marveling  at  their  freedom  from  vulgarity,  pettiness, 
or  narrowness  of  mental  attitude.  If  they  do  not 
afford  evidences  of  a  profound  culture  in  philosophy, 
letters,  or  science,  they  offer  no  trace  of  intellectual 
blindness  or  conceit,  and  they  leave  no  doubt  that 
their  author  had  thought  greatly  and  freely.  Even 
more  certain  is  their  assurance  of  the  range  and  in- 
tensity of  his  emotional  life.  In  these  respects  again, 
no  one  can  compare  his  work  with  that  of  other  writers 
without  feeling  the  effect  of  his  personality.  Fletcher, 
perhaps  next  to  him  among  the  Elizabethans  in  a 


i9*        ^e  jFacts  about  grtjafeeapeare 

versatile  expression  of  a  wide  range  of  emotions,  gives 
no  sign  of  the  sincere,  profound,  and  searching  interest 
in  humankind  which  we  are  sure  was  Shakespeare's. 
Bacon,  surpassing  him  perhaps  in  intellectual  curiosity 
and  thoroughness,  manifestly  gives  no  evidence  in 
his  writings  of  the  warmth  of  sympathy,  the  quickness 
of  emotional  response,  the  fire  of  passion  which  we  find 
in  the  author  of  Shakespeare's  plays.  It  is  difficult 
to  disbelieve  that  their  imaginative  participation  in  the 
height  and  breadth  of  human  feeling  was  the  creation 
of  a  man  who  united  intellectual  greatness  with  an 
emotional  susceptibility  of  extraordinary  range  and 
delicacy,  and  with  a  sympathy,  genial,  wide,  tolerant, 
but  also  heartfelt,  deep,  and  passionate.  Such  is 
the  ineffaceable  impression  of  the  man  which  has  been 
shared  by  many  generations  of  readers,  and  which 
found  expression  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  in 
Dryden's  carefully  considered  estimate,  "The  man  who 
of  all  Moderns,  and  perhaps  Ancient  Poets,  had  the 
largest  and  most  comprehensive  soul." 

What  of  the  plays  themselves  ?  Is  there  any  fixed 
and  universal  estimate  of  their  quality  and  significance 
as  literature  ?  In  this  volume  we  have  been  concerned 
in  reviewing  our  knowledge  about  them  rather  than 
in  their  interpretation  or  evaluation.  We  have  noted 
the  sources  from  which  their  plots  were  drawn,  the 
conditions  under  which  they  were  produced  in  the  play- 
houses, the  influences  at  work  in  the  contemporary 
drama  which  determined  in  some  measure  their  sub- 


dualities  of  tlje  JjOlapa  193 

jects  and  treatment.  Starting  with  the  probable 
dates  of  their  composition,  we  have  traced  them  from 
the  theater  to  the  printer,  through  the  hands  of 
many  editors,  and  through  the  long  history  of  their 
effects  on  theatergoers  and  readers.  In  their  history 
they  have  played  a  part  in  the  changes  of  taste  and  opin- 
ion of  three  centuries,  and  if  they  have  grown  greatly  in 
men's  estimation,  this  has  not  been  without  much  vari- 
ability of  appreciation  and  uncertainty  as  to  their  value. 
What,  then,  are  the  qualities  of  the  plays  that  raised 
them  at  once  above  the  measure  of  contemporary 
influence  and  rivalry  ?  Are  these  the  qualities  that 
have  continued  to  win  the  most  general  appreciation  ? 
Despite  all  the  stress  we  are  to-day  taught  to  place 
on  change,  growth,  evolution,  are  there  qualities 
in  these  plays  which  insure  them  a  continued  pre- 
eminence in  literature  ? 

Differences  of  opinion  testify,  indeed,  to  the  compre- 
hensive appeal  of  the  plays  to  different  minds,  nations, 
or  epochs,  but  they  have  not  greatly  affected  the 
essential  elements  in  men's  admiration.  If  some  critic 
brings  into  new  prominence  a  quality  that  has  partly 
escaped  attention,  his  discovery  is  not  likely  to  affect 
the  more  permanent  elements  of  their  reputation.  If 
for  a  time  attention  is  turned  to  the  plays  as  plays 
rather  than  as  poems  and  to  the  merits  of  Shakespeare 
as  a  dramatist,  this  criticism  does  not  lead  to  any 
lasting  disregard  of  their  poetic  quality  or  to  the  per- 
manent acceptance  of  skill  in  dramatic  structure 
o 


i94        ®tyt  jFacts  about  ^tjatepeare 

as  a  chief  element  in  their  literary  preeminence.  Nor 
is  such  an  element  discoverable  in  their  philosophical 
synthesis  or  their  incidental  wisdom,  although  some  of 
the  most  brilliant  criticism  has  exalted  that  wisdom 
or  sought  to  formulate  and  expound  their  view  of  life. 
Concerning  the  essential  elements  of  their  greatness 
no  real  difference  of  opinion  has  arisen  from  the  time 
they  were  written  down  to  the  present  day.  They  were 
lifted  at  once  above  the  level  of  contemporary  endeavor, 
and  they  have  continued  to  grow  in  reputation  chiefly 
because  of  their  poetry  and  their  characterization. 

Concerning  the  nature  and  quality  of  these  there  is 
little  difference  of  opinion,  though  critics  may  vary 
in  estimating  their  beauty  or  value.  One  may  prefer 
the  verse  of  Homer  or  of  Milton,  but  he  will  not  deny 
the  traits  that  distinguish  Shakespeare's.  Another 
may  prefer  the  well-ordered  study  of  human  motives 
in  Sophocles,  or  the  realistic  analysis  of  a  modern 
realist  like  Turgenieff ,  but  he  will  recognize  the  qualities 
in  Shakespeare's  characterization  that  are  the  basis  of 
general  admiration.  Still  another  may  condemn  that 
admiration,  but  he  will  not  differ  from  us  as  to  the 
chief  sources  of  its  existence. 

These  two  sources  are  hardly  to  be  separated,  for  the 
persons  are  revealed  through  the  beauty  of  the  verse, 
and  the  poetry  is  ever  adapted  to  the  speakers.  In  the 
early  plays  the  poet's  fancy  often  refuses  to  be  bound 
by  the  requirements  of  his  characters  and  escapes  in 
lyric  or  descriptive  excursions ;   but  as  his  art  becomes 


ijDoetrp  of  t\)t  pia^0  195 

more  masterly,  the  poetry  adapts  itself  with  in- 
creasing devotion  to  the  dramatic  task,  discarding  the 
limitations  of  the  verse  form  and  even  at  times  sacri- 
ficing clarity  and  harmony  of  expression  in  its  effort 
to  make  a  few  lines  significant  of  the  thought  and  emo- 
tion of  some  individual.  An  enormous  vocabulary 
is  treated  with  daring  freedom ;  words  are  coined, 
changed,  or  restamped  in  order  to  let  nothing  of  signifi- 
cance escape.  The  effect  is  not  primarily  that  of 
finished  workmanship  or  elaborate  harmony,  though 
these  may  be  found  in  many  passages  and  notably  in 
the  greatest  of  the  sonnets.  Broken  rather  than 
completed  images,  richness  of  suggestion  rather  than 
unity  of  impressiveness,  surprise  and  novelty  in  words 
rather  than  their  delicate  adjustment,  make  up  an 
effect  of  bewildering  enchantment  rather  than  of 
perfected  form.  This  is  true  even  in  an  early  play 
like  Romeo  and  Juliet,  where  the  verse  becomes  un- 
dramatic  in  order  to  make  the  most  of  every  opportunity 
for  fancy  or  melody,  and  it  is  true  also  in  Othello,  where 
poetry  and  characterization  are  wedded  with  consum- 
mate art.  The  reader's  pleasure  is  not  in  finding 
each  idea  finally  developed  or  each  motive  given  full 
elaboration.  It  is  rather  in  the  flow  of  words  which 
endow  each  person  and  moment  with  their  wealth  of 
color  and  suggestion,  and  somehow  carry  on  to  the 
reader  both  their  impression  of  life  and  the  transforming 
power  of  their  dignity  and  splendor. 

In  a  last  analysis  the  quality  of  the  poetry  is  less 


ip6        W>z  jFaets  about  £>l)ake0peattf 

dependent  on  the  music  of  line  or  passage  than  on  the 
imagery  of  the  words  themselves.  It  seems  as  if  the 
imagination  had  hurried  on  Ariel's  wing  around  the 
universe  in  order  to  freight  each  phrase  with  a  fresh 
trope  and  an  unexpected  meaning.  Sometimes,  to 
be  sure,  there  results  an  excess  or  mixture  of  figures; 
but  restrained  to  character  and  situation,  bound  by 
the  measure  of  the  pentameter,  the  carnival  of  words 
becomes  a  gorgeous  yet  ordered  pageant,  the  very 
spectacle  of  beauty. 

Let  us  take  but  one  passage,  not  from  the  great 
crises  of  passion,  nor  from  those  unsurpassable  revela- 
tions of  the  tortured  spirit,  but  from  the  opening  of  a 
play  where  the  purpose  is  chiefly  expository,  and  where 
indeed  the  language  is  not  free  from  that  mixture  of 
figures  which  some  condemn.  The  wonderful  first 
scene  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  which  within  the  com- 
pass of  its  sixty-two  lines  presents  the  two  protag- 
onists and  their  background  of  empire  and  war, 
opens  thus  in  the  speech  of  a  subordinate. 

Nay,  but  this  dotage  of  our  general's 

O'erflows  the  measure.     Those  his  goodly  eyes, 

That  o'er  the  files  and  musters  of  the  war 

Have  glow'd  like  plated  Mars,  now  bend,  now  turn 

The  office  and  devotion  of  their  view 

Upon  a  tawny  front ;    his  captain's  heart, 

Which  in  the  scuffles  of  great  fights  hath  burst 

The  buckles  on  his  breast,  reneges  all  temper, 

And  is  become  the  bellows  and  the  fan 

To  cool  a  gipsy's  lust. 


Characterisation  197 

A  few  lines  further  on  Antony  speaks  thus,  as  he 
embraces  Cleopatra. 

Let  Rome  in  Tiber  melt,  and  the  wide  arch 
Of  the  rang'd  Empire  fall !     Here  is  my  space. 
Kingdoms  are  clay ;   our  dungy  earth  alike 
Feeds  beast  as  man ;    the  nobleness  of  life 
Is  to  do  thus,  when  such  a  mutual  pair 
And  such  a  twain  can  do't,  in  which  I  bind, 
On  pain  of  punishment,  the  world  to  wit 
We  stand  up  peerless. 

No  other  man  ever  wrote  verse  like  this ;  and  it  is 
hard  to  believe  that  words  will  ever  again  respond  to 
such  a  magician. 

This  poetry  is  the  fitting  accompaniment  of  a  charac- 
terization, the  range  and  vitality  of  which,  the  world  to 
wit,  stand  up  peerless.  While  these  are  in  general 
qualities  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  it  is  noteworthy 
that  almost  from  the  beginning  Shakespeare  outstripped 
his  rivals.  Launce,  Richard  LTI,  Shylock,  Juliet,  were 
enough  to  establish  a  supremacy.  The  years  that 
followed  with  their  maturing  thought  and  experience 
gave  an  amazing  development  to  what  was  manifestly 
the  native  bent  of  his  genius.  Whatever  else  one  may 
find  in  the  plays,  indeed  whatever  one  finds  there  of 
wisdom  or  beauty,  truth  or  art,  it  cannot  be  separated 
from  their  revelation  of  human  nature. 

It  is  this  primarily  that  makes  the  dramas  great  and 
lasting.  The  histories,  with  all  their  pomp  and  move- 
ment   and   patriotism,    reveal    kings    and    lords   and 


ig8        {E^e  iTacts;  about  £>tiafte0peare 

peasants  as  alike  the  subjects  of  changing  fortune, 
alike  human  beings  for  our  pity,  admiration,  or  laughter. 
The  comedies  with  their  fancy  and  sentiment  and  fun, 
and  their  perennial  sunshine  on  the  self-deceived  and 
selfish,  are  ruled  by  the  most  charming  and  refined 
of  womankind.  The  tragedies  with  their  presentation 
of  the  waste  and  suffering  of  life,  though  here  depravity 
may  seem  to  fill  the  scene  and  innocence  share  in  the 
punishment  and  ruin,  yet  redeem  us  from  the  terror 
of  their  devastation  by  their  assurances  of  both  the 
majesty  and  the  loveliness  of  men  and  women. 

Shakespeare's  methods  in  characterization  have 
seemed  to  some  haphazard  and  bewildering.  He  does 
not  fit  his  men  and  women  into  an  analysis  of  the  con- 
stitution of  society  or  into  an  obvious  view  of  man's 
relations  in  the  universe.  Nor  does  he  use  his  charac- 
ters to  illustrate  fixed  conceptions  or  processes  of  cause 
and  effect.  He  usually  started  with  an  old  story,  with 
certain  types  of  character,  and  he  was  not  forgetful 
of  theatrical  necessities  or  dramatic  construction.  But 
as  he  went  on  he  brought  all  his  astounding  interest 
in  human  nature  to  focus  on  the  old  plot  and  the  stock 
type.  Hamlet,  the  hesitating  avenger,  becomes  the  senti- 
mentalist, the  idealist,  the  thinker  at  war  with  himself, 
the  embodiment  of  that  conflict  between  circumstance 
and  a  nature  unfitted  to  its  task,  which  in  some  measure 
we  have  all  encountered  in  life.  An  arrogant  and 
doting  old  man,  by  the  force  of  creative  imagination, 
transcends  the  nursery  tale  from  which  he  came,  and 


I^uman  Mature  199 

carries  to  us  all  the  implications  of  suffering  and  love 
that  surround  the  aging  of  parents  and  the  growth  of 
children.  Cleopatra  is  a  wanton,  but  no  analysis 
can  explain  the  subtleties  with  which  the  idealism  and 
animalism,  the  sacrifice  and  frivolity  —  and  how  much 
else  —  of  human  passion  are  bound  together  in  the  few 
hundred  lines  which  she  speaks.  It  is  impossible  to 
affirm  that  each  of  the  great  characters  is  thoroughly 
consistent  or  offers  a  strictly  accurate  motivation. 
Rather,  they  are  magnificent  portraits  —  like  the 
Mona  Lisa  —  crowded  with  a  penetrating  but  question- 
provoking  psychology.  Into  such  parts  and  situations 
as  the  drama  could  afford  are  impressed  every 
possible  revelation  of  our  motives ;  but  his  model  was 
always  reality  and  he  never  yielded  truth  to  whim  or 
prepossession. 

Human  nature,  at  its  best  or  worst,  droll  or  tragic, 
is  thus  given  magnitude  and  potency.  This  idealization, 
rendered  still  more  effective  by  the  verse,  persuades 
us  as  we  read  that  here  are  our  own  attributes  and 
conflicts  exalted,  now  into  serene  beauty,  again 
into  torment  and  horror,  and  again  into  the  Olympic 
warfare  of  unknown  supermen.  No  doubt  there  is 
confusion  because  of  the  complexity  of  motives  depicted 
and  the  multiplicity  of  impressions  created,  but  there 
is  also  a  final  message  of  the  greatness  and  comprehen- 
siveness of  human  souls.  In  this  world  of  sin  and 
weakness  and  death,  it  is  human  beings,  however 
mocked  or   maltreated   by  circumstance  or  by  them- 


200        Ww  ifacts;  about  ^tjafeeapeare 

selves,  that  are  still  triumphant  and  interesting.  Out 
of  his  strifes  and  failures,  the  individual  man  yet 
emerges,  the  object  of  our  contemplation  and  the 
assurance  of  our  faith. 

In  periods  or  persons  when  interest  in  the  individual 
gives  way  to  thought  about  class  or  system  or  some 
form  of  organization,  it  is  likely  that  admiration  for 
Shakespeare's  plays  will  suffer  a  decline.  In  periods 
or  persons  when  the  individual  assumes  a  larger  place  in 
thought  and  his  power  to  affect  and  dominate  the  world 
is  emphasized,  the  plays  are  likely  to  acquire  a  new 
regard.  As  long,  however,  as  the  study  of  human 
nature  is  a  chief  occupation  of  mankind  and  as  long 
as  we  believe  that  a  great  purpose  of  imaginative  litera- 
ture is  to  enlarge  our  knowledge  and  sympathy  for 
our  fellows,  so  long,  we  may  be  sure,  these  dramas  will 
not  lose  their  preeminence  in  literature. 


APPENDICES 


appetttiijc  a 


Biographical  Documents  and  Authorities 

i.   repositories  of  documents 

L.  refers  to  Lambert's  Shakespeare  Documents  and  H.-P.  to 
Halliwell-Phillipps's  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shakespeare.    7th  ed. 

1 
The  Parish  Registers  of  Stratford-on-Avon  are  the 
authority  for  the  baptisms  of  John  Shakespeare's  seven  chil- 
dren (L.  1-7) ;  for  the  burials  of  Anne  and  Edmund  (L.  10) ; 
for  the  baptisms  of  William  Shakespeare's  daughter  Susanna 
(L.  13)  and  the  twins,  Hamnet  and  Judith  (L.  14) ;  for  the 
burials  of  Hamnet  (L.  28),  of  the  poet's  father,  John  (L.  75), 
of  his  mother,  Mary  (L.  110),  of  the  poet  himself  (L.  146), 
and  of  his  widow  (L.  159).  These  Registers  have  been  edited 
for  the  Parish  Registers  Society,  by  R.  Savage,  1898-9. 

2 
The  Corporation  Records  of  Stratford-on-Avon  con- 
tain the  Quiney-Sturley  correspondence  (L.  39,  43,  44 ;  H.-P. 
II.  57-60) ;  a  return  of  the  quantities  of  corn  and  malt  held 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  ward  in  which  New  Place  was  situ- 
ated, "  Wm.  Shackespere"  being  down  for  ten  quarters  (L.  53) ; 
a  Bill  of  Complaint  presented  by  R.  Lane,  T.  Green,  and 
William  Shakespeare  respecting  the  tithes  of  Stratford-upon- 
203 


ao4  0ppen&fc  0 

Avon  (L.  125) ;    the  answer  of  William  Combe  to  the  fore- 
going Bill  (L.  126). 

3 

The  Public  Record  Office  in  London  preserves  the  fol- 
lowing :  record  of  the  purchase  by  John  Shakespeare  of  two 
houses  on  Henley  Street,  Stratford-on-Avon  (L.  8) ;  record 
of  a  mortgage  on  an  estate  at  "Awston  Cawntlett"  given  to 
Edmund  Lambert  by  John  and  Mary  Shakespeare  (L.  9) ; 
Bill  of  Complaint  brought  by  John  Shakespeare  against  John, 
son  of  Edmund  Lambert,  respecting  an  estate  at  Wilmecote, 
near  Stratford  (L.  15) ;  Ms.  accounts  of  the  Treasurer  of  the 
Chamber,  "To  Willm.  Kempe,  Willm.  Shakespeare  & 
Richarde  Burbage,  servaunts  to  the  Lord  Chamberleyne,  upon 
the  Councelles  warrant  dated  at  Whitehall  xvt0  Marcij  1594 
for  twoe  severall  Comedies  or  enterludes  shewed  by  them 
before  her  Majestie  in  Christmas  tyme  laste  paste,  viz  :  upon 
St.  Stephens  daye  and  Innocentes  daye  xiij.li.  vj.s.  viijd., 
and  by  waye  of  her  Majesties  rewarde  vj.li.  xiii.s.  iiijd.  in  all 
xx.li."  (L.  25) ;  record  of  the  purchase  of  New  Place  by  Shake- 
speare (L.  32) ;  papers  in  a  Chancery  suit  relating  to  the 
estate  at  Wilmecote  mortgaged  to  Edmund  Lambert,  and 
consisting  of  a  Bill  of  Complaint  by  John  and  Mary  Shake- 
speare against  John  Lambert  for  his  refusal  to  accept  £40 
and  reconvey  the  property  to  the  complainants,  John  Lam- 
bert's answer,  and  the  replication  of  John  and  Mary  Shake- 
speare to  the  answer  (L.  35) ;  a  subsidy  roll  showing  William 
Shakespeare  as  a  defaulter  in  respect  of  a  tax  of  five  shillings, 
October,  1596,  and  of  thirteen  shillings  and  four  pence,  Octo- 
ber, 1598,  based  on  an  assessment  made  about  1593  or  1594, 
when  the  poet  was  living  in  St.  Helen's,  Bishopsgate,  and 
paid  after  he  had  moved  to  Southwark  {Athenaeum,  March  16, 
1906,  and  L.  42) ;  Royal  Warrant  for  a  Patent  and  the  Patent 


Biographical  Documents  205 

itself  (May  19,  1603)  licensing  the  company  of  actors,  "Lau- 
rence Fletcher,  William  Shakespeare,  Richard  Burbage,  Augus- 
tine Phillippes,  John  Hemmings,  Henrie  Condell,  William  Sly, 
Robert  Armyn,  Richard  Cowly  and  the  rest  of  their  associates" 
as  the  King's  Servants  (L.  87,  88) ;  the  Accounts  of  the  Revels 
at  Court  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and  James,  containing 
entries  showing  performances  at  Court  of  "The  Moor  of 
Venis,"  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Winsor,"  "Mesur  for  Mesur" 
by  "Shaxberd,"  "the  plaie  of  Errors"  by  "Shaxberd," 
"Loves  Labours  lost,"  "Henry  the  fift,"  and  "the  Martchant 
of  Venis"  by  "Shaxberd"  (twice,  being  "againe  commanded 
by  the  Kings  Matle"),  all  in  1604  (O.S.),  of  "the  Tempest" 
and  "ye  winters  nightes  Tayle"  in  1611,  all  by  the  King's 
men,  and  of  the  performance  before  the  Court  at  Wilton, 
Dec.  2,  1603  (L.  96,  133,  Notes  in  the  History  of  the  Revels 
Office  under  the  Tudors,  ed.  by  E.  K.  Chambers,  and  Supposed 
Shakespeare  Forgeries,  by  Ernest  Law) ;  record  of  the  purchase 
in  1610  of  an  estate  in  Old  Stratford  and  Stratford-on-Avon 
by  Shakespeare  from  William  and  John  Combe  (L.  127) ; 
three  documents  in  a  Chancery  suit  relating  to  the  ownership 
of  property  in  Blackfriars,  April  26,  May  15,  May  22,  1615 
(C.  W.  Wallace  in  Englische  Studien,  April,  1906,  and  Preface 
to  New  Edition  of  Lee's  Life,  xxii  ff.) ;  the  grant  for  cloaks 
for  the  King's  entry  into  London,  March  15,  1604  (Ld.  Cham- 
berlain's Papers,  No.  600) ;  the  documents  in  the  law  suit 
among  the  heirs  of  Richard  Burbage  (1635),  relating  to  the 
ownership  of  the  Globe  and  the  Blackfriars  theaters,  and 
giving  much  information  on  the  value  of  theatrical  shares, 
actors'  salaries,  etc.  (H.-P.  i.  312-319) ;  and  the  documents 
in  the  lawsuit  of  Bellots  vs.  Mountjoy  (1612),  including  Shake- 
speare's deposition  (New  Shakespeare  Discoveries,  C.  W.  Wal- 
lace, Harper's  Magazine,  March,  1910). 


2o6  #ppenDij;  & 

4 
The  Shakespeare's  Birthplace  Museum  in  Stratford- 
on-Avon  contaias  several  documents  of  importance :  record 
of  the  conveyance  in  1602  of  an  estate  in  Old  Stratford  from 
William  and  John  Combe  to  William  Shakespeare  (L.  79, 
H.-P.  II,  17-19) ;  extract  from  the  Court  Rolls  of  the  Manor 
of  Rowington,  transferring  from  Walter  Getley  to  William 
Shakespeare  certain  premises  in  Chapel  Lane,  Stratford-on- 
Avon  (L.  81) ;  the  conveyance  to  Shakespeare  from  Ralph 
Hubande  of  the  residue  of  a  lease  of  a  moiety  of  the  tithes  of 
Stratford-on-Avon,  Old  Stratford,  Welcombe,  and  Bishopton 
(L.  99) ;  the  diary  of  one  Thomas  Greene,  containing  a  refer- 
ence to  the  dispute  as  to  the  inclosing  of  common  lands  (re- 
produced in  facsimile  in  C.  M.  Ingleby's  Shakespeare  and  the 
Enclosure  of  Common  Fields  at  Welcombe,  1885). 

5 

The  British  Museum  possesses  the  Ms.  diary  of  John 
Manningham  of  the  Middle  Temple,  which,  under  the  date  of 
Feb.  2,  1601,  records  a  performance  of  Twelfth  Night,  and  the 
anecdote  recorded  above,  p.  44  (L.  77 ;  Ms.  Harl.  5353,  ed. 
Camden  Soc,  p.  39) ;  also  the  Mortgage  Deed  from  Shake- 
speare to  Henry  Walker  on  the  property  in  Blackfriars  con- 
veyed to  Shakespeare  and  others  on  the  day  previous,  March 
10,  1612/13. 

6 

The  Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford  has  the  Ms.  diary  of 
Dr.  Simon  Forman  describing  performances  of  Winter's  Tale, 
Cymbeline,  and  Macbeth  in  1610  and  1611  (L.  128;  Ms. 
Ashmol.  208,  fol.  2016) ;  and  the  Accounts  of  Lord  Stanhope 
of  Harrington,  Treasurer  of  the  Chamber  to  James  I,  contain- 
ing the  following  entry :   "  1613,  May  20.     Item  paid  to  John 


H5iogFapt)ttal  Documents;  307 

Heminges  uppon  the  cowncells  warrant  dated  att  Whitehall 
xx°  die  Maii  1613  for  presentinge  before  the  Princes  highnes 
the  La  :  Elizabeth  and  the  Prince  Pallatyne  Elector  f  owerteene 
severall  playes  viz  .  .  .  Much  adoe  abowte  nothinge  .  .  . 
The  Tempest  .  .  .  The  Winters  Tale,  Sr  John  Falstafe, 
The  Moore  of  Venice  .  .  .  Caesars  Tragedye  ...  All  wch 
Playes  weare  played  within  the  tyme  of  this  Accompte,  viz 
pd  the  some  of  iiij.  (xx.)  xiij.li.  vj.s.  viij.d. 

"Item  paid  to  the  said  John  Heminges  uppon  the  lyke 
warrant  dated  att  Whitehall  xx°  die  Maij  1613  for  presenting 
sixe  severall  playes  viz.  one  playe  called  .  .  .  And  one  other 
called  Benidicte  and  Betteris  all  played  within  the  tyme  of 
this  Accompte  viz  pd  Sortie  powndes  And  by  waye  of  his 
Ma113  rewarde  twentie  powndes  In  all  ...  lx  li."  (L.  138; 
Ms.  Rawl.  A.  239). 

7 

The  Episcopal  Register  of  the  Diocese  of  Worcester 
contains  the  bond  given  by  Sandells  and  others  for  the  mar- 
riage of  Shakespeare  and  Anne  Hathaway  (L.  12). 

8 

The  Library  of  the  Guildhall  in  London  has  the  in- 
denture prepared  for  the  purchaser  in  the  sale  of  the  house  in 
Blackfriars  on  March  10,  1613,  by  Henry  Walker  to  William 
Shakespeare  and  others  (L.  136).  The  indenture  held  by  the 
seller  is  in  the  library  of  Mr.  Marsden  J.  Perry,  Providence, 
B.I. 

9 

The  Principal  Probate  Registry,  Somerset  House, 
London,  contains  Shakespeare's  Will,  which  runs  as  follows : 


208  0ppenDip  £ 

1  Vicesimo  quinto  die  [Januarii]  Martii,  anno  regni  domini 
nostri  Jacobi,  nunc  regis  Angliae,  &c,  decimo  quarto,  et 
Scotia?  xlix0,  annoque  Domini  1616. 

—  T.  Wmi.  Shackspeare 

In  the  name  of  God,  Amen !  I  William  Shackspeare,  of 
Stratford  upon  Avon  in  the  countie  of  Warr.,  gent.,  in  perfect 
health  and  memorie,  God  be  praysed,  doe  make  and  ordayne 
this  my  last  will  and  testament  in  manner  and  forme  followe- 
ing,  that  ys  to  saye,  ffirst,  I  comend  my  soule  into  the  handes 
of  God  my  Creator,  hoping  and  assuredlie  beleeving,  through 
thonelie  merittes,  of  Jesus  Christe  my  Saviour,  to  be  made  par- 
taker of  lyfe  everlastinge,  and  my  bodye  to  the  earth  whereof 
yt  ys  made.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  my  [sonne  and] 2 
daughter  Judyth  one  hundred  and  fyftie  poundes  of  lawfull 
English  money,  to  be  paied  unto  her  in  the  manner  and  forme 
foloweng,  that  ys  to  saye,  one  hundred  poundes  in  discharge 
of  her  marriage  porcion  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas,  with 
consideracion  after  the  rate  of  twoe  shillinges  in  the  pound 
for  soe  long  tyme  as  the  same  shalbe  unpaied  unto  her  after 
my  deceas,  and  the  fyftie  poundes  residwe  thereof  upon  her 
surrendring  of,  or  gyving  of  such  sufficient  securitie  as  the 
overseers  of  this  my  will  shall  like  of,  to  surrender  or  graunte 
all  her  estate  and  right  that  shall  discend  or  come  unto  her 
after  my  deceas,  or  that  shee  nowe  hath,  of,  in,  or  to,  one  copie- 
hold  tenemente,  with  thappurtenaunces,  lyeing  and  being  in 
Stratford  upon  Avon  aforesaied  in  the  saied  countye  of  Warr., 
being  parcell  or  holden  of  the  mannour  of  Rowington,  unto 
my  daughter  Susanna  Hall  and  her  heires  for  ever.     Item,  I 

1  The  words  which  have  been  erased  are  put  between  brackets  ;  those 
which  have  been  interlined  are  printed  in  italics. 

2  So  Lambert.    Halliwell-Phillipps  reads  "sonne  in  L." 


^aktsfpeare'sf  Mill  309 

gyveand  bequeath  unto  my  saied  daughter  Judith  one  hundred 
and  fyftie  poundes  more,  if  shee  or  anie  issue  of  her  bodie  be 
lyvinge  att  thend  of  three  yeares  next  ensueing  the  daie  of  the 
date  of  this  my  will,  during  which  tyme  my  executours  are 
to  paie  her  consideracion  from  my  deceas  according  to  the 
rate  aforesaied ;  and  if  she  dye  within  the  saied  tearme  with- 
out issue  of  her  bodye,  then  my  will  ys,  and  I  doe  gyve  and 
bequeath  one  hundred  poundes  thereof  to  my  neece  Elizabeth 
Hall,  and  the  fiftie  poundes  to  be  sett  fourth  by  my  executours 
during  the  lief  of  my  sister  Johane  Harte,  and  the  use  and 
proffitt  thereof  cominge  shalbe  payed  to  my  saied  sister  Jone, 
and  after  her  deceas  the  saied  l.**-  shall  remaine  amongst  the 
children  of  my  saied  sister,  equallie  to  be  divided  amongst 
them ;  but  if  my  saied  daughter  Judith  be  ryving  att  thend 
of  the  saied  three  yeares,  or  anie  yssue  of  her  bodye,  then  my 
will  ys,  and  soe  I  devise  and  bequeath  the  saied  hundred  and 
fyftie  poundes  to  be  sett  out  by  my  executours  and  overseers 
for  the  best  benefitt  of  her  and  her  issue,  and  the  stock  not  to 
be  paied  unto  her  soe  long  as  she  shalbe  marryed  and  covert 
baron  [by  my  executours  and  overseers] ;  but  my  will  ys,  that 
she  shall  have  the  consideracion  yearelie  paied  unto  her 
during  her  lief,  and,  after  her  deceas,  the  saied  stock  and 
consideracion  to  bee  paied  to  her  children,  if  she  have  anie, 
and  if  not,  to  her  executours  or  assignes,  she  lyving  the  saied 
terme  after  my  deceas.  Provided  that  yf  suche  husbond  as 
she  shall  att  thend  of  the  saied  three  years  be  marryed  unto, 
or  att  anie  after  (sic),  doe  sufficientlie  assure  unto  her  and 
thissue  of  her  bodie  landes  awnswereable  to  the  porcion  by  this 
my  will  gyven  unto  her,  and  to  be  adjudged  soe  by  my  execu- 
tours and  overseers,  then  my  will  ys,  that  the  said  cl.M-  shalbe 
paied  to  such  husbond  as  shall  make  such  assurance,  to  his 
owne  use.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  my  saied  sister 
P 


2io  #ppenDij:  & 

Jone  xx.H-  and  all  my  wearing  apparrell,  to  be  paied  and  de- 
livered within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas ;  and  I  doe  will  and 
devise  unto  her  the  house  with  thappurtenaunces  in  Stratford, 
wherein  she  dwelleth,  for  her  naturall  lief,  under  the  yearlie 
rent  of  xij.d-  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  her  three  sonnes, 
William  Harte,  .  .  .  Hart,  and  Michaell  Harte,  fyve  pounds 
a  peece,  to  be  paied  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas  [to  be 
sett  out  for  her  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas  by  my  execu- 
tours,  with  thadvise  and  direccions  of  my  overseers,  for  her 
best  profitt,  untill  her  mariage,  and  then  the  same  with  the 
increase  thereof  to  be  paied  unto  her].  Item,  I  gyve  and 
bequeath  unto  [her]  the  saied  Elizabeth  Hall,  all  my  plate, 
except  my  brod  silver  and  gilt  bole,  that  I  now  have  att  the 
date  of  this  my  will.  Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  unto  the 
poore  of  Stratford  aforesaied  tenn  poundes ;  to  Mr.  Thomas 
Combe  my  sword  ;  to  Thomas  Russell  esquier  fyve  poundes ; 
and  to  Frauncis  Collins,  of  the  borough  of  Warr.  in  the  countie 
of  Warr.  gentleman,  thirteene  poundes,  sixe  shillinges,  and 
eight  pence,  to  be  paied  within  one  yeare  after  my  deceas. 
Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  to  [Mr.  Richard  Tyler  thelder] 
Hamlett  Sadler  xxvj.*-  viij.d-  to  buy  him  a  ringe;  to  William 
Raynoldes  gent.,  xxvj.s-  viijfi-  to  buy  him  a  ringe;  to  my  godson 
William  Walker  xx*-  in  gold  ;  to  Anthonye  Nashe  gent.,  xxvj.*- 
viij  .*  ;  and  to  Mr.  John  Nashe  xxvj  .*■  viij .*•  [in  gold] ;  and  to 
my  fellowes  John  Hemynges,  Richard  Burbage,  and  Henry  Cun- 
dell,  xxvj.s-  viij.a-  a  peece  to  buy  them  ringes.  Item,  I  gyve,  will, 
bequeath,  and  devise,  unto  my  daughter  Susanna  Hall,  for 
better  enabling  of  her  to  performe  this  my  will,  and  towards  the 
performans  thereof,  all  that  capitall  messuage  or  tenemente 
with  thappurtenaunces,  in  Stratford  aforesaid,  called  the  New 
Place,  wherein  I  nowe  dwell,  and  two  messuages  or  tenementes 
with  thappurtenaunces,  scituat,  lyeing,  and  being  in  Henley 


Srtjafeespeare'g  Mill  an 

streete,  within  the  borough  of  Stratford  aforesaied ;  and  all 
my  barnes,  stables,  orchardes,  gardens,  landes,  tenementes, 
and  hereditamentes,  whatsoever,  scituat,  lyeing,  and  being, 
or  to  be  had,  receyved,  perceyved,  or  taken,  within  the  townes, 
hamletes,  villages,  fieldes,  and  groundes,  of  Stratford  upon 
Avon,  Oldstratford,  Bushopton,  and  Welcombe,  or  in  anie  of 
them  in  the  saied  countie  of  Warr.  And  alsoe  all  that  mes- 
suage or  tenemente  with  thappurtenaunces,  wherein  one  John 
Robinson  dwelleth,  scituat,  lyeing  and  being,  in  the  Black- 
friers  in  London,  nere  the  Wardrobe  ;  and  all  my  other  landes, 
tenementes,  and  hereditamentes  whatsoever,  To  have  and  to 
hold  all  and  singuler  the  saied  premisses,  with  theire  appur- 
tenaunces,  unto  the  saied  Susanna  Hall,  for  and  during  the 
terme  of  her  naturall  lief,  and  after  her  deceas,  to  the  first 
sonne  of  her  bodie  lawfullie  yssueing,  and  to  the  heires  males 
of  the  bodie  of  the  saied  first  sonne  lawfullie  yssueinge ;  and 
for  defalt  of  such  issue,  to  the  second  sonne  of  her  bodie,  law- 
fullie issueinge,  and  [of  ]  to  the  heires  males  of  the  bodie  of  the 
saied  second  sonne  lawfullie  yssueinge  ;  and  for  defalt  of  such 
heires,  to  the  third  sonne  of  the  bodie  of  the  saied  Susanna 
lawfullie  yssueing,  and  of  the  heires  males  of  the  bodie  of  the 
saied  third  sonne  lawfullie  yssueing ;  and  for  defalt  of  such 
issue,  the  same  soe  to  be  and  remaine  to  the  ffourth  [sonne], 
ffyfth,  sixte,  and  seaventh  sonnes  of  her  bodie  lawfullie  issue- 
ing,  one  after  another,  and  to  the  heires  males  6f  the  bodies 
of  the  saied  fourth,  fifth,  sixte,  and  seaventh  sonnes  lawfullie 
yssueing,  in  such  manner  as  yt  ys  before  lymitted  to  be  and 
remaine  to  the  first,  second,  and  third  sonns  of  her  bodie,  and 
to  theire  heires  males ;  and  for  defalt  of  such  issue,  the  said 
premisses  to  be  and  remaine  to  my  sayed  neece  Hall,  and  the 
heires  males  of  her  bodie  lawfullie  yssueinge ;  and  for  defalt 
of  such  issue,  to  my  daughter  Judith,  and  the  heires  males  of 


2i2  0ppmDir  2L 

her  bodie  lawfullie  issueinge ;  and  for  defalt  of  such  iaaue,  to 
the  right  heires  of  me  the  saied  William  Shakspeare  for  ever. 
Item,  I  gyve  unto  my  wief  my  second  best  bed  with  the  furniture. 
Item,  I  gyve  and  bequeath  to  my  saied  daughter  Judith  my 
broad  silver  gilt  bole.  All  the  rest  of  my  goodes,  chattels, 
leases,  plate,  jewels,  and  household  stuffe  whatsoever,  after 
my  dettes  and  legasies  paied,  and  my  funerall  expenses  dis- 
charged, I  give,  devise,  and  bequeath  to  my  sonne  in  lawe, 
John  Hall  gent.,  and  my  daughter  Susanna,  his  wief,  whom  I 
ordaine  and  make  executours  of  this  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment. And  I  doe  intreat  and  appoint  the  saied  Thomas 
Russell  esquier  and  Frauncis  Collins  gent,  to  be  overseers 
hereof,  and  doe  revoke  all  former  wills,  and  publishe  this 
to  be  my  last  will  and  testament.  In  witness  whereof  I 
have  hereunto  put  my  [seale]  hand,  the  daie  and  yeare  first 
abovewritten. 

By  me  William  Shakspeare. 
Witnes  to  the  publyshing  hereof, 

Fra:  Collyns,1 

julyus  shawe, 

John  Robinson, 

Hamnet  Sadler, 

Robert  Whattcott. 

Probatum  coram  magistro  Willielmo  Byrde,  legum  doctore 
comiss.  &c.  xxijd0-  die  mensis  Junii  anno  Domini  1616, 
juramento  Johannis  Hall,  unius  executorum,  &c.  cui  &c. 
de  bene  &c.  jurat,  reservat.  potestate  &c.  Susanna?  Hall, 
alteri  executorum  &c.  cum  venerit  petitur,  &c.  (Inv. 
ex.) 

1  Francis  Collyns  was  the  lawyer  at  Warwick  who  prepared  the  will, 
of  which  the  draft  only  was  exeouted,  no  time  being  possible  for  an  en- 
grossed copy.  —  Note  by  Lambert. 


315iograpl)tcal  Documents?  313 

10 

The  Heralds'  College  has  the  two  drafts  of  a  grant  of 
arms  to  John  Shakespeare  in  1596  (Ms.  Vincent.  Coll.  Arm. 
157,  arts.  23,  24) ;  and  the  confirmation  of  the  grant  in  1599 
(L.  30,  55).  For  further  details  on  the  matter  of  the  coat  of 
arms,  see  Herald  and  Genealogist,  i.  510,  and  for  facsimiles, 
Miscellanea  Genealogica  et  Heraldica,  2d  ser.  1886,  i.  109. 
On  the  criticism  of  the  herald's  complaisance  in  the  matter  of 
the  Shakespeare  and  similar  grants,  see  Preface  to  New  Edi- 
tion (1909)  of  Lee's  Life,  pp.  xi-xv. 

11 

The  Stationers'  Register,  accessible  in  the  Transcript 
edited  by  E.  Arber,  5  vols.  1875-94,  contains  the  records  of  the 
entries  of  those  of  Shakespeare's  works  which  were  registered 
either  with  or  without  his  name.  The  Shakespearean  entries 
are  gathered  out  of  the  great  mass  contained  in  these  volumes 
by  Lambert,  Fleay,  Stokes,  H.  P.,  Chronological  Order  of 
Shakespeare's  Plays,  1878,  Appendix  V,  and  others. 

12.   Miscellaneous 

The  literary  allusions  to  Shakespeare  in  the  sixteenth  and 
earlier  seventeenth  centuries  have  been  collected  in  Shake- 
speare's Century  of  Praise,  revised  and  reedited  by  J.  Munro 
as  The  Shakespeare  Allusion  Books,  London,  1909. 

Greene's  attack  in  Greenes  Groatsworth  will  be  found  in  its 
context  in  his  works,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  1881-1886,  and 
Chettle's  Apology  in  his  Kind  Hartes  Dreame,  Percy  Society, 
1874. 

The  Historical  MSS.  Commission's  Report  on  the  Historical 
MSS.  of  Belvoir  Castle,  IV.  494,  contains  the  entry  from  the 
Belvoir  Household  Book  as  to  Rutland's  "impresa."     See  also 


ai4  appmDir  & 

Times,  December  27,  1905,  and  Preface  to  New  Edition  of 
Lee's  Life,  pp.  xvi-xxii. 

13.  Extracts  from  Meres's  Palladis  Tamia,  1598 
As  the  Greeke  tongue  is  made  famous  and  eloquent  by 
Homer,  Hesiod,  Euripedes,  dfschilus,  Sophocles,  Pindarus, 
Phocylides  and  Aristophanes ;  and  the  Latine  tongue  by  Virgill, 
Ovid,  Horace,  Silius  Italicus,  Lucanus,  Lucretius,  Ausonius 
and  Claudianus:  so  the  English  tongue  is  mightily  enriched, 
and  gorgeouslie  invested  in  rare  ornaments  and  resplendent 
abiliments  by  sir  Philip  Sidney,  Spencer,  Daniel,  Drayton, 
Warner,  Shakespeare,  Marlow  and  Chapman. 

As  the  soule  of  Euphorbus  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythagoras : 
so  the  sweete  wittie  soule  of  Ovid  lives  in  mellifluous  &  hony- 
tongued  Shakespeare,  witnes  his  Venus  and  Adonis,  his  Lucrece, 
his  sugred  Sonnets  among  his  private  friends,  &c. 

As  Plautus  and  Seneca  are  accounted  the  best  for  Comedy 
and  Tragedy  among  the  Latines,  so  Shakespeare  among  ye 
English  is  the  most  excellent  in  both  kinds  for  the  stage ;  for 
Comedy,  witnes  his  Getleme  of  Verona,  his  Errors,  his  Love 
labors  lost,  his  Love  labours  wonne,  his  Midsummers  night 
dreame,  &  his  Merchant  of-  Venice:  for  Tragedy,  his  Richard 
the  2,  Richard  the  3,  Henry  the  4,  King  Iohn,  Titus  Andronicus, 
and  his  Romeo  and  Iuliet. 

As  Epius  Stolo  said,  that  the  Muses  would  speake  with 
Plautus  tongue,  if  they  would  speak  Latin :  so  I  say  that  the 
Muses  would  speak  with  Shakespeares  fine  filed  phrase,  if 
they  would  speake  English. 

As  Ovid  saith  of  his  worke: 

lam  que  opus  exegi,  quod  nee  Iovis  ira,  nee  ignis, 
Nee  poterit  ferrum,  nee  edax  abolere  vetustas. 


(^tracts  from  99ere$  315 

And  as  Horace  saith  of  his ;  Exegi  monumentum  cere  peren- 
nius;  Regalique;  situ  pyramidum  altius;  Quod  non  imber 
edax;  Non  Aquilo  impotens  possit  diruere;  aut  innumerabilis 
annorum  feries  &c  fuga  temporum:  so  say  I  severally  of  sir 
Philip  Sidneys,  Spencers,  Daniels,  Draytons,  Shakespeares,  and 
Warners  workes; 

As  Pindarus,  Anacreon  and  Callimachus  among  the  Greekes  ; 
and  Horace  and  Catullus  among  the  Latines  are  the  best 
Lyrick  Poets:  so  in  this  faculty  the  best  among  our  Poets 
are  Spencer  (who  excelleth  in  all  kinds)  Daniel,  Drayton, 
Shakespeare,  Bretton. 

As  ...  so  these  are  our  best  for  Tragedie,  the  Lorde 
Buckhurst,  Doctor  Leg  of  Cambridge,  Doctor  Edes  of  Oxforde, 
maister  Edward  Ferris,  the  Authour  of  the  Mirrour  for  Magis- 
trates, Marlow,  Peele,  Watson,  Kid,  Shakespeare,  Drayton, 
Chapman,  Decker,  and  Benjamin  Johnson. 
...  so  the  best  for  Comedy  amongst  us  bee,  Edward  Earle  of 
Oxforde,  Doctor  Gager  of  Oxforde,  Maister  Rowley  once  a 
rare  Scholler  of  learned  Pembroke  Hall  in  Cambridge,  Maister 
Edwardes  one  of  her  Maiesties  Chappell,  eloquent  and  wittie 
John  Lilly,  Lodge,  Gascoyne,  Greene,  Shakespeare,  Thomas 
Nash,  Thomas  Heywood,  Anthony  Mundye  our  best  plotter, 
Chapman,  Porter,  Wilson,  Hathway,  and  Henry  Chettle. 
...  so  these  are  the  most  passionate  among  us  to  bewaile 
and  bemoane  the  perplexities  of  Love,  Henrie  Howard  Earle 
of  Surrey,  sir  Thomas  Wyat  the  elder,  sir  Francis  Brian,  sir 
Philip  Sidney,  sir  Walter  Rawley,  sir  Edward  Dyer,  Spencer, 
Daniel,  Drayton,  Shakespeare,  Whetstone,  Gascoyne,  Samuell 
Page  sometimes  fellowe  of  Corpus  Christi  Colledge  in  Oxford, 
Churchyard,  Bretton. 


2i6  apprnQtr  a 

14.   The  Inscription   on  Shakespeare's  Monument  in 
the  Church  of  the   Holt   Trinity,  Stratford-on-Avon 
Judicio  Pylium,  genio  Socratem,  arte  Maronem 
Terra  tegit,  populus  maeret,  Olympus  habet. 

Stay,  passenger,  why  goest  thou  by  so  fast  ? 
Read,  if  thou  canst,  whom  envious  death  hath  plast 
Within  this  monument :  Shakespeare  with  whome 
Quick  nature  dide  ;  whose  name  doth  deck  ys  tombe 
Far  more  than  cost ;  sith  all  yt  he  hath  writt 
Leaves  living  art  but  page  to  serve  his  witt. 

Obiit  ano.  doi  1616.     ^Etatis  53.     Die  23  Ap. 

15.  The  Introductory  Matter  in  the  First  Folio 
TO   THE   MOST   NOBLE 

AND 

INCOMPARABLE   PAIRE   OF   BRETHREN. 
WILLIAM 
Earle  of  Pembroke,  &c.     Lord  Chamberlaine  to  the 
Kings  most  Excellent  Maiesty. 

AND 

PHILIP 
Earle  of  Montgomery,  &c.  Gentleman  of  his  Maiesties  Bed- 
chamber. 
Both  Knights  of  the  most  Noble  Order  of  the  Garter, 
and  our  singular  good  Lords. 
Right  Honourable, 

Whilst  we  studie  to  be  thankful  in  our  particular,  for  the 
many  fauors  we  haue  receiued  from  your  L.  L.  we  are  falne 
vpon  the  ill  fortune,  to  mingle  two  the  most  diuerse  things 
that  can  bee,  feare,  and  rashnesse;  rashnesse  in  the  enter- 
prize,  and  feare  of  the  successe.     For,  when  we  valew  the 


W$t  jfim  ifolto  217 


places  your  H.  H.  sustaine,  we  cannot  but  know  their  dignity 
greater,  then  to  descend  to  the  reading  of  these  trifles :  and, 
while  we  name  them  trifles,  we  haue  depriu'd  our  selues  of 
the  defence  of  our  Dedication.  But  since  your  L.  L.  haue 
beene  pleas'd  to  thinke  these  trifles  some-thing,  heeretofore ; 
and  haue  prosequuted  both  them,  and  their  Authour  liuing, 
with  so  much  fauour :  we  hope,  that  (they  out-liuing  him, 
and  he  not  hauing  the  fate,  common  with  some,  to  be  exequutor 
to  his  owne  writings)  you  will  vse  the  like  indulgence  toward 
them,  you  haue  done  vnto  their  parent.  There  is  a  great 
difference,  whether  any  Booke  choose  his  Patrones,  or  finde 
them :  This  hath  done  both.  For,  so  much  were  your  L.  L. 
likings  of  the  seuerall  parts,  when  they  were  acted,  as  before 
they  were  published,  the  Volume  ask'd  to  be  yours.  We  haue 
but  collected  them,  and  done  an  office  to  the  dead,  to  procure 
his  Orphanes,  Guardians:  without  ambition  either  of  selfe- 
profit,  or  fame :  onely  to  keepe  the  memory  of  so  worthy  a 
Friend,  &  Fellow  aliue,  as  was  our  Shakespeare,  by  humble 
offer  of  his  playes,  to  your  most  noble  patronage.  Wherein, 
as  we  haue  iustly  obserued,  no  man  to  come  neere  your  L.  L. 
but  with  a  kind  of  religious  addresse ;  it  hath  bin  the  height 
of  our  care,  who  are  the  Presenters,  to  make  the  present 
worthy  of  your  H.  H.  by  the  perfection.  But,  there  we  must 
also  craue  our  abilities  to  be  considerd,  my  Lords.  We  can- 
not go  beyond  our  owne  powers.  Country  hands  reach  foorth 
milke,  creame,  fruites,  or  what  they  haue :  and  many  Nations 
(we  haue  heard)  that  had  not  gummes  &  incense,  obtained 
their  requests  with  a  leauened  Cake.  It  was  no  fault  to  ap- 
proch  their  Gods,  by  what  meanes  they  could  :  And  the  most, 
though  meanest,  of  things  are  made  more  precious,  when 
they  are  dedicated  to  Temples.  In  that  name  therefore,  we 
most  humbly  consecrate  to  your  H.  H.  these  remaines  of  your 


2i8  #ppenDijt:  & 

seruant  Shakespeare  ;  that  what  delight  is  in  them,  may  be 
euer  your  L.  L.  the  reputation  his,  &  the  faults  ours,  if  any 
be  committed,  by  a  payre  so  carefull  to  shew  their  gratitude 
both  to  the  liuing,  and  the  dead,  as  is 

Your  Lordshippes  most  bounden, 

Iohn  Heminge. 

Henry  Condell. 

To  the  Great  Variety  of  Readers.  —  From  the  most  able  to 
him  that  can  but  spell ;  —  there  you  are  number'd.  We  had 
rather  you  were  weighd,  especially  when  the  fate  of  all  bookes 
depends  upon  your  capacities,  and  not  of  your  heads  alone, 
but  of  your  purses.  Well !  It  is  now  publique,  and  you  will 
stand  for  your  privileges  wee  know ;  to  read  and  censure. 
Do  so,  but  buy  it  first.  That  doth  best  commend  a  booke, 
the  stationer  saies.  Then,  how  odde  soever  your  braines  be, 
or  your  wisedomes,  make  your  licence  the  same  and  spare 
not.  Judge  your  sixe-pen'orth,  your  shillings  worth,  your  five 
shillings  worth  at  a  time,  or  higher,  so  you  rise  to  the  just 
rates,  and  welcome.  But,  whatever  you  do,  buy.  Censure 
will  not  drive  a  trade  or  make  the  jacke  go.  And  though  you 
be  a  magistrate  of  wit,  and  sit  on  the  stage  at  Black-Friers 
or  the  Cock-pit  to  arraigne  playes  dailie,  know,  these  playes 
have  had  their  triall  alreadie,  and  stood  out  all  appeales,  and 
do  now  come  forth  quitted  rather  by  a  Decree  of  Court  than 
any  purchas'd  letters  of  commendation. 

It  had  bene  a  thing,  we  confesse,  worthie  to  have  bene 
wished,  that  the  author  himselfe  had  liv'd  to  have  set  forth 
and  overseen  his  owne  writings ;  but  since  it  hath  bin  ordain'd 
otherwise,  and  he  by  death  departed  from  that  right,  we  pray 
you  do  not  envie  his  friends  the  office  of  their  care  and  paine 
to  have  collected  and  publish'd  them ;    and  so  to  have  pub- 


1K\)t  jFirst  ifolto  219 

lish'd  them,  as  where  (before)  you  were  abus'd  with  diverse 
stolne  and  surreptitious  copies,  maimed  and  def)ormed  by  the 
frauds  and  stealthes  of  injurious  impostors  that  expos'd 
them ;  even  those  are  now  offer'd  to  your  view  cur'd  and 
perfect  of  their  limbes,  and  all  the  rest  absolute  in  their  num- 
bers as  he  conceived  them ;  who,  as  he  was  a  happie  imitator 
of  Nature,  was  a  most  gentle  expresser  of  it.  His  mind  and 
hand  went  together ;  and  what  he  thought,  he  uttered  with 
that  easinesse  that  wee  have  scarse  received  from  him  a  blot  in 
his  papers.  But  it  is  not  our  province,  who  onely  gather  his 
works  and  give  them  you,  to  praise  him.  It  is  yours  that 
reade  him.  And  there  we  hope,  to  your  divers  capacities, 
you  will  finde  enough  both  to  draw  and  hold  you ;  for  his  wit 
can  no  more  lie  hid  then  it  could  be  lost.  Reade  him,  there- 
fore ;  and  againe  and  againe ;  and  if  then  you  doe  not  like 
him,  surely  you  are  in  some  manifest  danger  not  to  under- 
stand him.  And  so  we  leave  you  to  other  of  his  friends,  whom, 
if  you  need,  can  bee  your  guides.  If  you  neede  them  not, 
you  can  leade  yourselves  and  others ;  and  such  readers  we 
wish  him.  —  Iohn  Heminge.  —  Henrie  Condell. 

TO   THE    MEMORY   OF    MY   BELOUED, 
THE   AVTHOR 

MB.    WILLIAM    SHAKESPEABE: 
AND 

what  he  hath  left  vs. 

To  draw  no  enuy  (Shakespeare)  on  thy  name, 
Am  I  thus  ample  to  thy  Booke,  and  Fame : 

While  I  confesse  thy  writings  to  be  such, 

As  neither  Man,  nor  Muse,  can  praise  too  much. 


22o  #ppenofr  j3 

'Tis  true,  and  all  mens  suffrage.     But  these  wayes 

Were  not  the  paths  I  meant  vnto  thy  praise : 
For  seeliest  Ignorance  on  these  may  light, 

Which,  when  it  sounds  at  best,  but  eccho's  right ; 
Or  blinde  Affection,  which  doth  ne're  aduance 

The  truth,  but  gropes,  and  vrgeth  all  by  chance ; 
Or  crafty  Malice,  might  pretend  this  praise, 

And  thinke  to  ruine,  where  it  seem'd  to  raise. 
These  are,  as  some  infamous  Baud,  or  Whore, 

Should  praise  a  Matron.     What  could  hurt  her  more  ? 
But  thou  art  proofe  against  them,  and  indeed 

Aboue  th'  ill  fortune  of  them,  or  the  need. 
I,  therefore  will  begin.     Soule  of  the  Age  ! 

The  applause  !   delight !   the  wonder  of  our  Stage  ! 
My  Shakespeare,  rise ;  I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 

Chaucer,  or  Spenser,  or  bid  Beaumont  lye 
A  little  further,  to  make  thee  a  roome : 

Thou  art  a  Moniment,  without  a  tombe, 
And  art  aliue  still,  while  thy  Booke  doth  Hue, 

And  we  haue  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  giue. 
That  I  not  mixe  thee  so,  my  braine  excuses ; 

I  meane  with  great,  but  disproportion'd  Muses: 
For,  if  I  thought  my  iudgement  were  of  yeeres, 

I  should  commit  thee  surely  with  thy  peeres, 
And  tell,  how  farre  thou  didstst  our  Lily  out-shine, 

Or  sporting  Kid,  or  Marlowes  mighty  line. 
And  though  thou  hadst  small  Latine,  and  lesse  Greeke, 

From  thence  to  honour  thee,  I  would  not  seeke 
For  names ;  but  call  forth  thund'ring  JSschilus, 

Euripides,  and  Sophocles  to  vs, 
Paccuuius,  Accius,  him  of  Cordoua  dead, 

To  life  againe,  to  heare  thy  Buskin  tread, 


315m  3|on$on'$  (Eulogy  231 

And  shake  a  Stage :  Or,  when  thy  Sockes  were  on, 

Leaue  thee  alone,  for  the  comparison 
Of  all,  that  insolent  Greece,  or  haughtie  Rome 

Sent  forth,  or  since  did  from  their  ashes  come. 
Triumph,  my  Britaine,  thou  hast  one  to  showe, 

To  whom  all  Scenes  of  Europe  homage  owe. 
He  was  not  of  an  age,  but  for  all  time  ! 

And  all  the  Muses  still  were  in  their  prime, 
When  like  Apollo  he  came  forth  to  warme 

Our  eares,  or  like  a  Mercury  to  charme  ! 
Nature  her  selfe  was  proud  of  his  designes, 

And  ioy'd  to  weare  the  dressing  of  his  lines ! 
Which  were  so  richly  spun,  and  wouen  so  fit, 

As,  since,  she  will  vouchsafe  no  other  Wit. 
The  merry  Greeke,  tart  Aristophanes, 

Neat  Terence,  witty  Plautus,  now  not  please ; 
But  antiquated,  and  deserted  lye 

As  they  were  not  of  Natures  family. 
Yet  must  I  not  giue  Nature  all :  Thy  Art, 

My  gentle  Shakespeare,  must  enioy  a  part. 
For  though  the  Poets  matter,  Nature  be, 

His  Art  doth  giue  the  fashion.     And,  that  he, 
Who  casts  to  write  a  liuing  line,  must  sweat, 

(Such  as  thine  are)  and  strike  the  second  heat 
Vpon  the  Muses  anuile :  turne  the  same, 

(And  himselfe  with  it)  that  he  thinkes  to  frame ; 
Or  for  the  lawrell,  he  may  gaine  a  scorne, 

For  a  good  Poet's  made,  as  well  as  borne. 
And  such  wert  thou.     Looke  how  the  fathers  face 

Liues  in  his  issue,  euen  so,  the  race 
Of  Shakespeares  minde,  and  manners  brightly  shines 

In  his  well  torned,  and  true-filed  lines : 


222  &ppenDtr  # 


In  each  of  which,  he  seeraes  to  shake  a  Lance, 

As  brandish't  at  the  eyes  of  Ignorance. 
Sweet  Swan  of  Auon !  what  a  sight  it  were 

To  see  thee  in  our  waters  yet  appeare, 
And  make  those  flights  vpon  the  bankes  of  Thames, 

That  so  did  take  Eliza,  and  our  lames! 
But  stay,  I  see  thee  in  the  Hemisphere 

Aduanc'd,  and  made  a  Constellation  there  ! 
Shine  forth,  thou  Starre  of  Poets,  and  with  rage, 

Or  influence,  chide,  or  cheere  the  drooping  Stage ; 
Which,  since  thy  flight  fro  hence,  hath  mourn'd  like  night, 

And  despaires  day,  but  for  thy  Volumes  light. 

Ben:  Ionson. 

VPON  THE  LINES  AND  LIFE  OF  THE  FAMOUS 

Scenicke  Poet,  Master  William  Shakespeare 

Those  hands,  which  you  so  clapt,  go  now,  and  wring 
You  Britaines  braue  ;   for  done  are  Shakespeares  dayea : 
His  dayes  are  done,  that  made  the  dainty  Playes, 
Which  made  the  Globe  of  heau'n  and  earth  to  ring. 
Dry'de  is  that  veine,  dry'd  is  the  Thespian  Spring, 
Turn'd  all  to  teares,  and  Phabus  clouds  his  rayes : 
That  corp's,  that  coffin  now  besticke  those  bayes, 
Which  crown'd  him  Poet  first,  then  Poets  King. 
If  Tragedies  might  any  Prologue  haue, 
All  those  he  made,  would  scarse  make  one  to  this : 
Where  Fame,  now  that  he  gone  is  to  the  graue 
(Deaths  publique  tyring-house)  the  Nuncius  is. 

For  though  his  line  of  life  went  soone  about, 

The  life  yet  of  his  lines  shall  neuer  out. 

Hvqh  Holland. 


tE^e  jFirst  jfolto  223 


TO  THE   MEMORIE 
of  the  deceased  Authour  Maister 

W.    SHAKESPEARE 

Shakespeare,  at  length  thy  pious  fellowes  giue 

The  world  thy  Workes :  thy  Workes,  by  which,  out-liue 

Thy  Tombe,  thy  name  must :  when  that  stone  is  rent, 

And  Time  dissolues  thy  Stratford  Moniment, 

Here  we  aliue  shall  view  thee  still.     This  Booke, 

When  Brasse  and  Marble  fade,  shall  make  thee  looke 

Fresh  to  all  Ages  :  when  Posteritie 

Shall  loath  what's  new,  thinke  all  is  prodegie 

That  is  not  Shake-speares  eu'ry  Line,  each  Verse 

Here  shall  reuiue,  redeeme  thee  from  thy  Herse. 

Nor  Fire,  nor  cankring  Age,  as  Naso  said, 

Of  his,  thy  wit-fraught  Booke  shall  once  inuade. 

Nor  shall  I  e're  beleeue,  or  thinke  thee  dead 

(Though  mist)  vntill  our  bankrout  Stage  be  sped 

(.Impossible)  with  some  new  straine  t'out-do 

Passions  of  Iuliet,  and  her  Romeo; 

Or  till  J  heare  a  Scene  more  nobly  take, 

Then  when  thy  half-Sword  parlying  Romans  spake. 

Till  these,  till  any  of  thy  Volumes  rest 

Shall  with  more  fire,  more  feeling  be  exprest, 

Be  sure,  our  Shakespeare,  thou  canst  neuer  dye, 

But  crown'd  with  Lawrell,  Hue  eternally. 

L.    DlGGES. 

To  the  memorie  of  M.  W.  Shakespeare. 
Wee  wondred  (Shakespeare)  that  thou  went'st  so  soone 
From  the  Worlds-Stage,  to  the  Graues-Tyring-roome. 
Wee  thought  thee  dead,  but  this  thy  printed  worth, 
Tels  thy  Spectators,  that  thou  went'st  but  forth 


224  flppenDtjr  & 

To  enter  with  applause.     An  Actors  Art, 

Can  dye,  and  Hue,  to  acte  a  second  part. 

That's  but  an  Exit  of  Mortalitie ; 

This,  a  Re-entrance  to  a  Plaudite.  I.  M. 

The  Workes  of  William  Shakespeare,  containing  all  his 
Comedies,  Histories,  and  Tragedies;  truely  set  forth  according 
to  their  first  Originall.  —  The  names  of  the  Principall  Actors  in 
all  these  playes.  —  William  Shakespeare ;  Richard  Burbadge  ; 
John  Hemmings ;  Augustine  Phillips ;  William  Kempt ; 
Thomas  Poope ;  George  Bryan ;  Henry  Condell ;  William 
Slye ;  Richard  Cowly ;  John  Lowine  ;  Samuell  Crosse  ;  Alex- 
ander Cooke ;  Samuel  Gilburne ;  Robert  Armin ;  William 
Ostler ;  Nathan  Field  ;  John  Underwood  ;  Nicholas  Tooley ; 
William  Ecclestone ;  Joseph  Taylor ;  Robert  Benfeld  ;  Robert 
Goughe  ;    Richard  Robinson  ;   John  Shancke  ;    John  Rice. 

A  Catalogue  of  the  severall  Comedies,  Histories,  and  Tragedies 
contained  in  this  Volume.  —  Comedies.  The  Tempest, 
folio  1 ;  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  20 ;  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  38 ;  Measure  for  Measure,  61 ;  The  Comedy  of 
Errours,  85 ;  Much  adoo  about  Nothing,  101 ;  Loves  Labour 
lost,  122 ;  Midsommer  Nights  Dreame,  145 ;  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  163;  As  You  Like  it,  185;  The  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  208 ;  All  is  well  that  Ends  well,  230 ;  Twelfe-Night, 
or  what  you  will,  255 ;  The  Winters  Tale,  304.  —  Histories. 
The  Life  and  Death  of  King  John,  fol.  1 ;  The  Life  and  Death 
of  Richard  the  Second,  23  ;  The  First  Part  of  King  Henry  the 
Fourth,  46 ;  The  Second  Part  of  K.  Henry  the  fourth,  74 ; 
The  Life  of  King  Henry  the  Fift,  69 ;  The  First  part  of  King 
Henry  the  Sixt,  96 ;  The  Second  part  of  King  Hen.  the  Sixt, 
120 ;  The  Third  part  of  King  Henry  the  Sixt,  147 ;  The  Life 
and    Death   of   Richard  the  Third,  173;     The   Life  of  King 


tEra&itional  Material  335 

Henry  the  Eight,  205.  —  Tragedies.  The  Tragedy  of 
Coriolanus,  fol.  1 ;  Titus  Andronicus,  31 ;  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
53 ;  Timon  of  Athens,  80 ;  The  Life  and  death  of  Julius 
Ca;sar,  109  ;  The  Tragedy  of  Macbeth,  131 ;  The  Tragedy  of 
Hamlet,  152  ;  King  Lear,  283  ;  Othello,  the  Moore  of  Venice, 
310;  Anthony  and  Cleopater,  346;  Cymbeline  King  of 
Britaine,  369. 

II.    SOURCES   OF   TRADITIONAL   MATERIAL 

Fuller's  Worthies  of  England.   1662. 

Aubrey's   Lives  of  Eminent  Men,    2   vols.     Ed.    A.    Clark. 

Oxford,  1895. 
Diary  of  Rev.  John  Ward  (1661-1663).  Ed.  C.  A.  Severn,  1839. 
Rev.   William   Fulman's   and   Rev.   Richard   Davies's   Mss. 

Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford. 
John  Dowdall's  Travels  in  Warwickshire  (1693) .  London,  1838. 
William  Hall  (1694),  Letter  in  Bodleian  Mss.    London,  1884. 
William  Oldys,  Ms.  Adversaria  in  British  Museum,  printed  in 

Appendix  to  Yeowell's  Memoir  of  Oldys,  1862. 
Archdeacon  Plume's  Ms.  memoranda  at  Maldon,  Essex.     See 

Lee,    Nineteenth    Century,    May,    1906,   and   Preface   to 

New  Edition  (1909)  of  Life. 

For  the  anecdote  of  the  Bidford  Drinkers,  see  H.-P.  and 
Greene's  Legend  of  the  Crab  Tree,  1857. 
Antony   Wood.     Athena?  Oxonienses,  1692. 


Index  to  the  Characters  in  Shakespeare's  Plats 

This  Index  records  the  act  and  scene  in  which  each  character  first 
speaks,  not  necessarily  the  same  as  that  in  which  he  first  appears.  Only 
persons  who  speak  are  included,  except  a  few  marked  with  asterisk. 


Aaron.     TA.  II.  i. 
Abbess,  Lady.     CofE.  V.  i. 
Abergavenny,  Lord.     H8.  I.  i. 
Abhorson.     Meas.  IV.  ii. 
Abraham.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Achilles.     T&C.  II.  i. 
Adam.     AYLI.  I.  i. 
Adrian.     Tmp.  II.  i. 
Adriana.     CofE.  II.  i. 
^Edile,  an.     Cor.  III.  i. 
iEgeon.     CofE.  I.  i. 
Emilia.     CofE.  V.  i. 
^Emilius.     TA.  IV.  iv. 
^Eneas.     T&C.  I.  i. 
Agamemnon.     T&C.  I.  iii. 
Agrippa.     A&C.  II.  ii. 
Aguecheek,  Sir  Andrew.  TwN. 

I.  iii. 
Ajax.     T&C.  II.  i. 
Alarbus.     TA.* 
Albany,  Duke  of.     Lear  I.  i. 
Alcibiades.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Alencon,  Duke  of.     1H6.  I.  ii. 
Alexander.     T&C.  I.  ii. 
Alexas.     A&C.  I.  ii. 
Alice.     H5.  III.  iv. 
Alonso.     Tmp.  I.  i. 
Ambassadors  :  Hml.  V.  ii ;  H5. 

I. ii;    1H6.  V.  i. 


Amiens.     AYLI.  II.  i.  v. 

Andromache.     T&C.  V.  iii. 

Andronicus.  See  Titus,  Mar- 
cus. 

Angelo.     CofE.  III.  i. 

Angelo.     Meas.  I.  i. 

Angus.     Mcb.  I.  ii. 

Anne  Bullen,  Queen.  H8.  I. 
iv. 

Anne,  Lady.     R3.  I.  ii. 

Anne  Page.     MWW.  I.  i. 

Antigonus.     WT.  II.  i. 

Antiochus,  King  of  Antioch. 
Per.  I.  i. 

Antipholus  of  Ephesus.  CofE. 
III.  i. 

Antipholus  of  Syracuse.  CofE. 
I.  ii. 

Antonio.     Merch.  I.  i. 

Antonio.     MAdo.  I.  ii. 

Antonio.     Tmp.  I.  i. 

Antonio.     TGV.  I.  iii. 

Antonio.     TwN.  II.  i. 

Antony.     JC.  I.  ii ;  A&C.  I.  i. 

Apemantus.     Tim.  I.  i. 

Apothecary.     R&J.  V.  i. 

Apparitions.     Mcb.  IV.  i. 

Archbishop.  See  York,  Canter- 
bury. 


226 


3\nntx  to  Characters 


227 


Archidamus.     WT.  Li. 
Ariel.     Tmp.  I.  ii. 
Armado,  Don.     LLL.  I.  ii. 
Arragon,    Prince   of.     Merch. 

II.  ix. 
Artemidonis.     JC.  II.  iii. 
Arthur,     Duke    of    Bretagne. 

John  II.  i. 
Arviragus.     Cym.  III.  iii. 
Astringer,     Gentle.     AWEW. 

V.  i. 
Attendants.    A&C.  I.  ii ;  Hml. 

IV.  vi.     See  Servants. 
Audrey.     AYLI.  III.  iii. 
Aufidius,  Tullus.     Cor.  I.  ii. 
Aumerle,  Duke  of.     R2.  I.  iii. 
Austria,    Archduke  of.     John 

II.  i.     See  Lymoges. 
Autolycus.     WT.  IV.  iii. 
Auvergne,  Countess  of.     1H6. 

II.  iii. 

Bagot.     R2.  II.  ii. 

Balthasar.     MAdo.  II.  iii. 

Balthazar.     CofE.  III.  i. 

Balthazar.     Merch.  III.  iv. 

Balthazar.     R&J.  I.  i. 

Banditti.     Tim.  IV.  iii. 

Banquo.     Mcb.  I.  iii. 

Baptista.     TofS.  I.  i. 

Bardolph.  1H4.  II.  ii;  2H4. 
II.  i;  Ho.  II.  i;  MWW.I.i. 

Bardolph,  Lord.     2H4.  I.  i. 

Barnardine.     Meas.  IV.  iii. 

Bassanio.     Merch.  I.  i. 

Bassanius.     TA.  I.  i. 

Basset.     1H6.  III.  iv. 

Bastard  of  Orleans.    1H6. 1,  ii. 

Bastard.  See  Edmund,  Faul- 
conbridge,  and  Margarelon. 

Bates.     H5.  IV.  i. 

Bawd.  Per.  IV.  ii.  See  Over- 
done. 

Beadles.  2H4.  V.  iv ;  2H6. 
II.  i. 


Beatrice.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Beaufort,    Henry,    Bishop    of 

Winchester,    and    Cardinal. 

1H6.  I.  i;    2H6.  I.  i. 
Beaufort,      John,      Duke     of 

Somerset.    1H6.  II.  iv ;  2H6. 

Li. 
Beaufort,    Thomas,    Duke    of 

Exeter.    H5. 1,  ii ;    1H6. 1,  i. 
Bedford,  Duke  of.     H5.  II.  ii. 
Bedford,  Duke  of.     1H6.  I.  i. 
Belarius.     Cym.  III.  iii. 
Belch,  Sir  Toby.     TwN.  I.  iii. 
Benedick.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Benvolio.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Berkeley.     R3.  I.  iii.* 
Berkeley,  Lord.     R2.  II.  iii. 
Bernardo.     Hml.  I   i. 
Bertram,  Count  of  Rousillon. 

AWEW.  I.  i. 
Bevis,  George.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Bianca.     Oth.  III.  iv. 
Bianca.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Bigot,  Lord.     John  IV.  iii. 
Biondello.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Biron.     LLL.  I.  i. 
Blanche  of  Spain.     John  II.  i. 
BluDt,  Sir  James.     R3.  V.  ii. 
Blunt,  Sir  Walter.     1H4. 1,  iii. 
Boatswain.     Tmp.  I.  i. 
Bolingbroke,  Roger.     2H6.  I. 

iv. 
Bolingbroke,  afterwards  King 

Henry  IV.     R2.  I.  i. 
Bona.     3H6.  III.  iii. 
Borachio.     MAdo.  I.  iii. 
Bottom.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Boult.     Per.  IV.  ii. 
Bourbon,  Duke  of.     H5.  III. 

v. 
Bourchier,  Cardinal.     R3.  III. 

i. 
Boyet.     LLL.  II.  i. 
Boys:   H5.  II.  i;    1H6.  I.  iv; 

H8.  V.  i ;  Mcb.  IV.  ii ;  Meas. 


228 


#ppenDir  315 


IV.  i ;    MAdo.  II.  iii ;     R3. 

II.  ii ;  T&C.  I.  ii.  See  Pages. 
Brabantio.     Oth.  I.  i. 
Brakenbury,  Sir  Robert.     R3. 

I.  i. 
Brandon.     H8.  I.  i. 
Brothers,       to       Posthumus, 

ghosts.     Cym.  V.  iv. 
Brutus,  Decius.     JC.  II.  i. 
Brutus,  Junius.     Cor.  I.  i. 
Brutus,  Marcus.     JC.  I.  ii. 
Buckingham,  Duke  of.     2H6. 

I.  i ;  R3.  I.  iii. 
Buckingham,    Duke   of.     H8. 

I.  i. 
Bullcalf.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Bullen,  Anne.     H8.  I.  iv. 
Burgundy,  Duke  of.     H5.  V. 

ii. 
Burgundy,  Duke  of.     1H6.  II. 

i. 
Burgundy,    Duke    of.      Lear 

I.  i. 
Bushy.     R2.  I.  iv. 
Butts,  Doctor.     H8.  V.  ii. 

Cade,  John.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Caesar.      See  Julius  and  Octa- 

vius. 
Caithness.     Mcb.  V.  ii. 
Caius.     TA* 

Caius,  Doctor.     MWW.  I.  iv. 
Caius  Ligarius.     JC.  II.  i. 
Caius  Lucius.     Cym.  III.  i. 
Caius    Marcius    (Coriolanus). 

Cor.  I.  i. 
Calchas.     T&C.  III.  iii. 
Caliban.     Tmp.  I.  ii. 
Calpurnia.     JC.  I.  ii. 
Cambridge,  Earl  of.     H5.  II. 

ii. 
Camillo.     WT.  I.  i. 
Campeius,  Cardinal.     H8.  II. 

ii. 
Canidiua.     A&C.  III.  x. 


Canterbury,    Archbishop    of. 

H5.     I.    i.     See    Bourchier, 

Cranmer. 
Caphis.     Tim.  II.  i. 
Captains:   A&C.  IV.  iv;  Cym. 

IV.  ii,  V.  iii ;    Hml.  IV.  iv ; 

1H6.   II.    ii;    Lear    V.    iii; 

Mcb.  I.  ii;   R2.  II.  iv;   TA. 

I.  i.     See  Sea  Captain. 
Capucius.     H8.  IV.  ii. 
Capulet.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Capulet,  Lady.  R&J.  I.  i. 
Capulet,  second.  R&J.  I.  v. 
Cardinal.    See  Bourchier,  Win- 

cn6st6r 
Carlisle,  Bishop  of.     R2.  III. 

ii. 
Carpenter.     JC.  I.  i. 
Carriers.     1H4.  II.  i. 
Casca.     JC.  I.  ii. 
Cassandra.     T&C.  II.  ii. 
Cassio.     Oth.  I.  ii. 
Cassius.     JC.  I.  ii. 
Catesby,  Sir  William.     R3.  I. 

iii. 
Cato,  young.     JC.  V.  iii. 
Celia.     AYLI.  I.  ii. 
Ceres.     Tmp.  IV.  i.   _ 
Cerimon.     Per.  III.  ii. 
Chamberlain.     1H4.  II.  i. 
Chamberlain,  Lord.     H8. 1,  iii. 
Chancellor,  Lord.     H8.  V.  iii. 
Charles,    a    wrestler.     AYLI. 

Li. 
Charles,    the    dauphin,    later 

King  of  France.     1H6.  I.  ii. 
Charles  VI,  King  of  France. 

H5.  II.  iv. 
Charmian.     A&C.  I.  ii. 
Chatillon,  ambassador.     John 

I.  i. 
Chief  Justice.     2H4.  I.  ii. 
Chiron.     TA.  I.  i. 
Chorus.     H5;      Per;      R&J; 

WT. 


iflniw  to  Character* 


229 


Cicero.     JC.  I.  iii. 

Cimber,  Metellus.     JC.  II.  i. 

Cinna,  a  conspirator.     JC.  I. 

iii. 
Cinna,  a  poet.     JC.  III.  iii. 
Citizens.     Cor.  I.  i ;   2H6.  IV. 
v ;    John  II.  i ;    R3.  II.  iii ; 
R&J.  III.  i. 
Clarence,    George,    Duke    of. 

3H6.  II.  ii ;  R3.  I.  i. 
Clarence,    Thomas,    Duke   of. 

2H4.  IV.  iv. 
Clarence,  son  and  daughter  of. 

R3.  II.  ii. 
Claudio.     Meas.  I.  ii. 
Claudio.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Claudius,   King  of  Denmark. 

Hml.  I.  ii. 
Claudius.     JC.  IV.  iii. 
Cleomenes.     WT.  III.  i. 
Cleon.     Per.  I.  iv. 
Cleopatra.     A&C.  I.  i. 
Clerk.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Clifford,  Lord.     2H6.  IV.  viii ; 

3H6.  I.  i. 
Clifford,    young,    son   of   pre- 
ceding.    2H6.  V.  i. 
Clitus.     JC.  V.  v. 
Cloten.     Cym.  I.  ii. 
Clowns:    A&C.  V.  ii ;  AWEW. 
I.  iii ;   Hml.  V.  ii ;   LLL.  I. 
ii ;   Oth.  III.  i ;   TA.  IV.  iii  ; 
WT.     IV.    iii.     See    Feste, 
Peter,  Pompey,  etc. 
Cobbler.     JC.  I.  i. 
Cobweb.     MND.  III.  i. 
Colville,  Sir  John.     2H4.  IV. 

iii. 
Cominius.     Cor.  I.  i. 
Commons.     2H6.  III.  ii. 
Conrade.     MAdo.  I.  iii. 
Conspirators.     Cor.  V.  vi. 
Constable  (Dull).     LLL.  I.  i. 
Constable  of  France.     H5.  II. 
iv. 


Constance.     John  II.  i. 

Cordelia.     Lear  I.  i. 

Corin.     AYLI.  II.  iv. 

Coriolanus.     Cor.  I.  i. 

Cornelius,  a  physician.  Cym. 
I.  v. 

Cornelius.     Hml.  I.  ii. 

Cornwall,  Duke  of.     Lear  I.  i. 

Costard.     LLL.  I.  i. 

Court.     H5.  IV.  i. 

Courtesan.     CofE.  IV.  iii. 

Cranmer,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury.    H8.  V.  i. 

Cressida.     T&C.  I.  ii. 

Crier.     H8.  II.  iv. 

Cromwell.     H8.  III.  ii. 

Cupid.     Tim.  I.  ii. 

Curan.     Lear  II.  i. 

Curio.     TwN.     I.  i. 

Curtis.     TofS.  IV.  i. 

Cymbeline,  King.     Cym.  I.  i. 

Dancer,  A.  2H4.  Epi. 
Dardanius.  JC.  V.  v. 
Daughter  of  Antiochus.     Per. 

Li. 
Dauphin.     Ho.  II.  iv. 
Davy.     2H4.  V.  i. 
Deiphobus.     T&C.  IV.  i. 
Demetrius.     A&C.  I.  i. 
Demetrius.     MND.  I.  i. 
Demetrius.     TA.  I.  i. 
Dennis.     AYLI.  I.  i. 
Denny,  Sir  Anthony.     H8.  V.  i 
Derby,  Earl  of.     R3.  I.  iii. 
Dercetas.     A&C.  IV.  xiv. 
Desdemona.     Oth.  I.  iii. 
Diana.     Per.* 
Diana.     AWEW.  III.  v. 
Dick,  butcher.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Diomedes.     T&C.  II.  iii. 
Diomedes.     A&C.  IV.  xiv. 
Dion.     WT.  III.  i. 
Dionyza.     Per.  I.  iv. 
Doctor.     Lear  IV.  iv. 


230 


#ppenDfr  115 


Doctor,  English.     Mcb.  IV.  iii. 
Doctor,  Scotch.     Mcb.  V.  i. 
Dogberry.     MAdo.  III.  iii. 
Dolabella.     A&C.  III.  xii. 
Doll  Tearsheet.     2H4.  II.  iv. 
Don     Adriano     de     Arm  ado. 

LLL.  I.  ii. 
Donalbain.     Mcb.  II.  iii. 
Don  John.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Don  Pedro.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Dorcas.     WT.  IV.  iv. 
Dorset,  Marquis  of.     R3. 1,  iii. 
Douglas,   Archibald,    Earl  of. 

1H4.  IV.  i. 
Drawers.     2H4.  II.  iv. 
Dromio    of    Ephesus.     CofE. 

I.  ii. 
Dromio    of    Syracuse.     CofE. 

I.  ii. 

Duke,  in  banishment.     AYLI. 

II.  i. 

Duke  Frederick.     AYLI.  I.  ii. 
Duke  of  Milan.     TGV.  II.  iv. 
Dull.     LLL.  I.  i. 
Dumain.     LLL.  I.  i. 
Duncan,  King.     Mcb.  I.  ii. 

Edgar.     Lear  I.  ii. 

Edmund.     Lear  I.  i. 

Edmund,  Earl  of  Rutland. 
3H6.  I.  iii. 

Edward,  Earl  of  March,  later 
Edward  IV.  3H6.  I.  i; 
R3.  II.  i. 

Edward  IV,  King.  3H6.  I.  i ; 
R3.  II.  i. 

Edward  V,  King.     R3.  III.  i. 

Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  after- 
wards Edward  V.    R3.  III.  i. 

Edward  Plantagenet,  Prince 
of  Wales.     3H6.  I.  i. 

Egeus.     MND.  I.  i. 

Eglamour.     TGV.  IV.  iii. 

Egyptian.     A&C.  V.  i. 

Elbow.     Meas.  II.  i. 


Eleanor,  Duchess  of  Glouces- 
ter.    2H6.  I.  ii. 

Eleanor,  Queen.     John  I.  i. 

Elizabeth,  Queen  (as  L.  Grey). 
3H6.  III.  ii ;  R3.  I.  iii. 

Ely,  Bishop  of.     H5.  I.  i. 

Ely,  Bishop  of.     R3.  III.  iv. 

Emilia.     Oth.  II.  ii. 

Emilia.    WT.  II.  ii. 

Enobarbus.     A&C.  I.  ii. 

Eros.     A&C.  III.  v. 

Erpingham,  Sir  Thomas.  H5. 
IV.  i. 

Escalus,  Prince.     R&J.  I.  i. 

Escalus.     Meas.  I.  i. 

Escanes.     Per.  II.  iv. 

Essex,  Earl  of.     John  I.  i. 

Euphronius.     A&C.  III.  xii. 

Evans,  Sir  Hugh.     MWW.  I.  i] 

Executioners.     John  IV.  i. 

Exeter  (Beaufort),  Duke  of. 
H5.  I.  ii;  1H6.  Li. 

Exeter,  Duke  of.     3H6.  I.  i. 

Exton,  Sir  Pierce  of.     R2.  V. 


Fabian.     TwN.  II.  v. 
Fairies.     MND.  II.  i ;  MWW. 

V.  iv. 
Falstaff,  Sir  John.     1H4.  I.  ii ; 

2H4.  I.  ii ;    MWW.  I.  i. 
Fang.     2H4.  II.  i. 
Fastolfe,  Sir  John.     1H6.  III. 

ii. 
Father   that   hath   killed   his 

son.     3H6.  II.  v. 
Faulconbridge,     Lady.     John 

I.  i. 
Faulconbridge,  Philip  the  Bas- 
tard.    John  I.  i. 
Faulconbridge,  Robert.     John 

Li. 
Feeble.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Fenton.     MWW.  I.  iv. 
Ferdinand.     Tmp.  I.  ii. 


31noer  to  Characters 


231 


Ferdinand,  King  of  Navarre. 

LLL.  I.  i. 
Feste.     TwN.  I.  v. 
Fisherman.     Per.  II.  i. 
Fitzwater,  Lord.     R2.  IV.  i. 
Flaminius.     Tim.  III.  i. 
Flavius.     JC.  I.  i. 
Flavius.     Tim.  I.  ii. 
Fleance.     Mcb.  II.  i. 
Florence,  Duke  of.     AWEW. 

III.  i. 
Florizel.     WT.  IV.  iv. 
Fluellen.     H5.  III.  ii. 
Flute.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Fool.     Lear  I.  iv  ;   Tim.  II.  ii. 
Ford.     MWW.  II.  i. 
Ford,  Mistress.     MWW.  II.  i. 
Forester.     AYLI.       IV.       ii ; 

LLL.  IV.  i. 
Fortinbras.     Hml.  IV.  iv. 
France,  King  of.     AWEW.  I. 

ii. 
France,  King  of.     Lear  I.  i. 
France,  Princess  of.     LLL.  II. 

i. 
Francis.     1H4.  II.  iv. 
Francisca.     Meas.  I.  iv. 
Francisco.     Hml.  I.  i. 
Francisco.     Tmp.  II.  i. 
Frederick,   Duke.       AYLI.   I. 

ii. 
Frenchman,  A.     Cym.  I.  iv. 
Friar  Francis.     MAdo.  IV.  i. 
Friar  John.     R&J.  V.  2. 
Friar  Lawrence.  R&J.  II.  3. 
Friar  Peter.     Meas.  IV.  vi. 
Friar  Thomas.     Meas.  I.  iii. 
Froth.     Meas.  II.  i. 

Gadshill.     1H4.  II.  i. 
Gaolers  :   CofE.  I.  i ;    Cym.  V. 

iv;   1H6.  II.  v;   Merch.  III. 

iii ;  WT.  II.  ii. 
Gallus.     A&C.  V.  i. 
Gardener.     R2.  III.  iv. 


Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester.    H8.  V.  i. 

Gargrave,  Sir  Thomas.  1H6. 
I.  iv. 

Gaunt,  John,  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster.    R2.  I.  i. 

Gentleman  Usher.  H8.  II. 
iv. 

Gentlemen:  AWEW.  V.  iii; 
Cym.  I.  i;  Hml.  IV.  v; 
2H6.  IV.  i ;  H8.  II.  i ;  Lear 
I.  v;  Meas.  I.  ii ;  Per.  III. 
ii;   Oth.  II.  i;   WT.  V.  ii. 

Gentlewomen.  Cor.  I.  iii ; 
Mcb.  V.  i. 

George,  Duke  of  Clarence. 
3H6.  II.  ii;    R3.  I.  i. 

Gertrude,  Queen  of  Denmark. 
Hml.  I.  ii. 

Ghosts  of  :  Caesar,  JC.  IV.  iii ; 
of  Hamlet's  father,  Hml.  I. 
v ;  Sicilius  Leonatus,  wife, 
two  sons,  Cym.  V.  iv  ;  Ban- 
quo,*  Mcb.  III.  iv ;  Prince 
Edward,  Henry  VI,  Clar- 
ence, Rivers,  Grey, 
Vaughan,  Hastings,  two 
young  princes,  Lady  Anne, 
and  Buckingham,  R3.  V.  iii. 

Glansdale,  Sir  William.  1H6. 
I.  iv. 

Glendower,  Owen.  1H4.  III. 
i. 

Gloucester,  Humphrey,  Duke 
of.  2H4.  IV.  iv;  H5.  III. 
vii;    1H6.  I.  i;   2H6.  I.  i. 

Gloucester,  Richard,  Duke  of. 
3H6.  I.  i;    R3.  I.  i. 

Gloucester,  Duchess  of.  2H6. 
I.  ii. 

Gloucester,  Duchess  of.  R2. 
I.  ii. 

Gloucester,  Earl  of.     Lear  I.  i. 

Gobbo,  Launcelot.  Merch.  II. 
ii. 


232 


0ppen&t]t  IB 


Gobbo,  Old,  father  of  Launce- 
lot.     Merch.  II.  ii. 

Goffe,  Matthew.     2H6.* 

Goneril.     Lear  I.  i. 

Gonzalo.     Tmp.  I.  i. 

Goths.     TA.  V.  i. 

Governor  of  Harfleur.  H5. 
III.  iii. 

Governor  of  Paris.    1H6.  IV.  i. 

Gower.  2H4.  II.  i ;  H5.  III. 
ii.  . 

Gower,  chorus.     Per. 

Grandpre.     H5.  IV.  ii. 

Gratiano.     Merch.  I.  i. 

Gratiano.     Oth.  V.  ii. 

Gravediggers.     Hml.  V.  i. 

Green.     R2.  I.  iv. 

Gregory.     R&J.  I.  i. 

Gremio.     TofS.  I.  i. 

Grey,  Lady,  later  Queen  Eliza- 
beth. 3H6.  III.  ii;  R3.  I. 
iii. 

Grey,  Lord.     R3.  I.  iii. 

Grey,  Sir  Thomas.     H5.  II.  ii. 

Griffith.     H8.  IV.  ii. 

Grooms.    2H4.  V.  v  ;  R2.  V.  v. 

Grumio.     TofS.  I.  i. 

Guard.     A&C.  IV.  xiv. 

Guiderius.     Cym.  III.  iii. 

Guildenstern.     Hml.  II.  ii. 

Guildford,  Sir  Henry.  H8.  I. 
iv. 

Gurney,  James.     John  I.  i. 

Haberdasher.     TofS.  IV.  iii. 
Hamlet.     Hml.  I.  ii. 
Harcourt.     2H4.  IV.  iv. 
Hastings,  Lord.     2H4.  I.  iii. 
Hastings,  Lord.     3H6.  IV.  i; 

R3.  I.  i. 
Hecate.     Mcb.  III.  v. 
Hector.     T&C.  II.  ii. 
Helen,    an   attendant.     Cym. 

II.  ii. 
Helen.    T&C.  III.  i. 


Helena.     AWEW.  I.  i. 
Helena.     MND.  I.  i. 
Helenus.     T&C.  II.  ii. 
Helicanus.     Per.  I.  ii. 
Henry  IV,  King  (Bolingbroke). 

1H4.  I.  i;   2H4.  III.  i;   R2. 

I.  i. 
Henry  V,  King  (first,  Henry, 

Prince  of  Wales).  1H4. 1,  ii ; 

2H4.  II.  ii ;    H5.  I.  ii. 
Henry,    Prince.     1H4.    I.    ii ; 

2H4.  II.  ii. 
Henry,    Prince,   son   of    King 

John.     John  V.  vii. 
Henry  VI,  King.     1H6.  III.  i ; 

2H6.  I.  i;   3H6.  I.  i. 
Henry  VII,  King,  first  Earl  of 

Richmond.     3H6*     R3.  V. 

iii. 
Henry  VIII,  King.     H8.  I.  ii. 
Heralds.     Cor.  II.  i ;   H5.  III. 

vi,   IV.   viii;    2H6.   II.   iv; 

John    II.    i;     Lear    V.    iii; 

Oth.  II.  ii ;    R2.  I.  iii. 
Herbert,  Sir  Walter.    R3.  V.  ii. 
Hereford,  Duke  of.    See  Henry 

IV.     R2.  I.  i. 
Hermia.     MND.  I.  i. 
Hermione.     WT.  I.  ii. 
Hero.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Hippolyta.     MND.  I.  i. 
Holland,  John.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Holofernes.     LLL.  IV.  ii. 
Horatio.     Hml.  I.  i. 
Horner,  Roger.     2H6.  I.  iii. 
Hortensio.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Hortensius.     Tim.  III.  iv. 
Host.     TGV.  IV.  ii. 
Host     of     the     Garter     Inn. 

MWW.  I.  iii. 
Hostess.     H5.   II.  i.  See 

Quickly. 
Hostess.     TofS.  Ind. 
Hotspur.     1H4.     I.     iii.     See 

Percy. 


31nDer  to  Characters? 


233 


Hubert  de  Burgh.     John  III. 

iii. 
Hume,  John.     2H6.  I.  ii. 
Humphrey      of      Gloucester. 

2H4.  IV.  iv;    H5.  III.  vii ; 

1H6.  I.  i;   2H6.  I.  i. 
Huntsmen.   3H6.  IV.  v  ;  TofS. 

Ind. 
Hymen.     AYLI.  V.  iv. 

Iachimo.     Cym.  I.  iv. 

Iago.     Oth.  I.  i. 

Iden,  Alexander.     2H6.  IV.  x. 

Imogen.     Cym.  I.  i. 

Interpreter.     AWEW.  IV.  iii. 

Iras.     A&C.  I.  ii. 

Iris.     Tmp.  IV.  i. 

Isabel,  Queen  of  France.     H5. 

V.  ii. 
Isabella.     Meas.  I.  iv. 
Isadore,  servant.     Tim.  II.  ii. 

Jamy.     H5.  III.  ii. 
Jaquenetta.     LLL.  I.  ii. 
Jaques.     AYLI.  II.  v. 
Jaques,  son  of  Sir  Roland  de 

Boys.     AYLI.* 
Jessica.     Merch.  II.  iii. 
Jeweller.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Joan  la  Pucelle  (Joan  of  Arc). 

1H6.  I.  ii. 
John,  King.     John  I.  i. 
John  of  Lancaster.     1H4.  V. 

iv ;  2H4.  IV.  ii. 
Jordan,    Margery.       2H6.    I. 

iv. 
Julia.     TGV.  I.  ii. 
Juliet.     Meas.  I.  ii. 
Juliet.     R&J.  I.  iii. 
Julius  Caesar.     JC.  I.  ii. 
Juno.     Tmp.  IV.  i. 
Jupiter.     Cym.  V.  iv. 


Katherina. 
Katherine. 


TofS.  I.  i. 
LLL.  II.  i. 


Katherine,  Princess  of  France. 

H5.  III.  iv. 
Katherine,  Queen.     H8.  I.  ii. 
Keepers:    3H6.    III.    i;     H8. 

V.  ii ;    R2.  V.  v ;    R3.  I.  iv. 

See  Gaolers. 
Kent,  Earl  of.     Lear  I.  i. 
Knights  :    Lear  I.  iv ;   Per.  II. 


Ladies  :  Cor.  II.  i ;  Cym.  I.  v ; 

R2.    III.    iv;     Tim.    I.    ii; 

WT.  II.  i. 
Laertes.     Hml.  I.  ii. 
Lafeu,  Lord.     AWEW.  I.  i. 
Lamprius.     A&C.  I.  ii. 
Launce.     TGV.  II.  iii. 
Launcelot  Gobbo.     Merch.  II. 

ii. 
Lavache,    a  clown.     AWEW. 

I.  iii. 
Lavinia.     TA.  I.  i. 
Lawyer,  a.     1H6.  II.  iv. 
Lear,  King.     Lear  I.  i. 
Le  Beau.     AYLI.  I.  ii. 
Legate.     1H6.  V.  i. 
Lennox.     Mcb.  I.  ii. 
Leonardo.     Merch.  II.  ii. 
Leonato.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Leonatus,  Posthumus.     Cym. 

Li. 
Leonine.     Per.  IV.  i. 
Leontes.     WT.  I.  ii. 
Lepidus.     JC.  IV.  i ;   A&C.  I. 

iv. 
Lewis,  the  Dauphin.     H5.  II. 

iv. 
Lewis,     the     Dauphin.     John 

II.  i. 

Lewis   XI,    King   of   France. 

3H6.  III.  iii. 
Lieutenant :      Cor.     IV.     vii ; 

2H6.  IV.  i ;    3H6.  IV.  vi. 
Ligarius.     JC.  II.  i. 
Lincoln,  Bishop  of.     H8.  II.  iv. 


234 


#ppenDfr  515 


Lion.     MND.  V.  i. 
Longaville.     LLL.  I.  i. 
Lords:   AWEW.  I.  ii,    III.  i; 

AYLI.   II.   i;    Cor.   V.   vi ; 

Cym.    I.    ii ;     Hml.    V.    ii ; 

LLL.  II.  i;    Mcb.  III.  iv ; 

Per.  I.  ii ;   R3.  V.  iii ;   TofS. 

Ind. ;   Tim.  I.  i ;  WT.  II.  ii. 
Lorenzo.     Merch.  I.  i. 
Lovel,  Lord.     R3.  III.  iv. 
Lovell,  Sir  Thomas.     H8. 1.  iii. 
Luce.     CofE.  III.  i. 
Lucentio.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Lucetta.     TGV.  I.  ii. 
Luciana.     CofE.  II.  i. 
Lucianus.     Hml.  III.  ii. 
Lucilius.     JC.  IV.  ii. 
Lucilius.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Lucio.     Meas.  I.  ii. 
Lucius,  Caius.     Cym.  III.  i. 
Lucius.     JC.  II.  i. 
Lucius.     TA.  I.  i. 
Lucius,  young.     TA.  III.  ii. 
Lucius.     Tim.     III.     ii ;    ser- 
vant.    Tim.  III.  iv. 
Lucullus.     Tim.  III.  i. 
Lucy,  Sir  William.     1H6.  IV. 

iii. 
Ludovico.     Oth.  IV.  i. 
Lychorida.     Per.  III.  i. 
Lymoges,    Duke    of    Austria. 

John  II.  i. 
Lysander.     MND.  I.  i. 
Lysimachus.     Per.  IV.  vi. 

Macbeth.     Mcb.  I.  iii. 
Macbeth,  Lady.     Mcb.  I.  v. 
Macduff.     Mcb.  II.  iii. 
Macduff,  Lady.     Mcb.  IV.  ii. 
Macduff's  son.     Mcb.  IV.  ii. 
Macmorris.     H5.  III.  ii. 
Maecenas.     A&C.  II.  ii. 
Malcolm.     Mcb.  I.  ii. 
Malvolio.     TwN.  I.  v. 
Mamillius.     WT.  I.  ii. 


Marcellus.     Hml.  I.  i. 

Marcus  Andronicus.     TA.  I.  i. 

Marcus  Antonius  (Antony). 
JC.  I.  ii;    A&C.  I.  i. 

Mardian.     A&C.  I.  v. 

Margarelon.     T&C.  V.  vi. 

Margaret.     MAdo.  II.  i. 

Margaret,  Queen.  1H6.  V. 
iii;  2H6.  I.  i;  3H6.  I.  i; 
R3.  I.  iii. 

Margaret  Plantagenet,  daugh- 
ter of  Clarence.      R3.  II.  ii. 

Maria.     LLL.  II.  i. 

Maria.     TwN.  I.  iii. 

Mariana.     AWEW.  III.  v. 

Mariana.     Meas.  IV.  i. 

Marina.     Per.  IV.  i. 

Mariner.     WT.  III.  iii ;  Tmp. 

I.  i. 

Marshal.     Per.  II.  iii. 
Marshal,  Lord.     R2.  I.  iii. 
Martext,    Sir   Oliver.     AYLI. 

III.  iii. 
Martius.     TA.  I.  i. 
Marullus.     JC.  I.  i. 
Master.     2H6.  IV.  i. 
Master  gunner.      1H6.  I.  iv. 
Master,  of  a  ship.     Tmp.  I.  i ; 

2H6.  IV.  i. 
Master's  Mate.     2H6.  IV.  i. 
Mayor  of  London.     1H6.  III. 

i;   R3.  III.  i. 
Mayor  of  St.   Alban's.     2H6. 

II.  i. 

Mayor  of  York.     3H6.  IV.  vii. 
Melun.     John  V.  iv. 
Menas.     A&C.  II.  i. 
Menecrates.     A&C.  II.  i. 
Menelaus.     T&C.  I.  iii. 
Menenius  Agrippa.     Cor.  I.  i. 
Menteith.     Mcb.  V.  ii. 
Mercade.     LLL.  V.  ii. 
Merchants  :  CofE  I.  ii ;  Tim. 

I.  i. 
Mercutio.    R&J.  I.  iv. 


3fjntiejr  to  Characters; 


235 


Messala.     JC.  IV.  iii. 
Messengers :      A&C.       I.      i  ; 

AWEW.  IV.  iii ;  CofE.  V.  i ; 

Cor.  I.  i ;  Cym.  V.  iv  ;  Hml. 

IV.  v;    1H4.   IV.  i;    2H4. 

IV.  i;   H5.  II.  v;  1H6.  I.  i ; 

2H6.  I.  ii ;    3H6.  I.  ii ;    H8. 

IV.  ii ;   John  IV.  ii  ;   JC.  IV. 

iii ;  Lear  IV.  ii ;  LLL.  V.  ii ; 

Mcb.   I.   v ;    Meas.   IV.  ii ; 

Merch.  II.  ix  ;    MAdo.  I.  i ; 

Oth.  I.  iii;    Per.  I.  i;    R3. 

III.  ii;    TofS.  III.  i;    Tim. 
I.  i;  TA.  III.  i. 

Metellus  Cimber.     JC.  II.  i. 
Michael.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Michael,  Sir.     1H4.  IV.  iv. 
Milan,  Duke  of.     TGV.  II.  iv. 
Miranda.     Tmp.  I.  ii. 
Montague.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Montague,  Lady.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Montague,         Marquess      of. 

3H6.  I.  i. 
Montano.     Oth.  II.  i. 
Montgomery,  Sir  John.     3H6. 

IV.  vii. 
Montjoy.     H5.  III.  vi. 
Moonshine.     MND.  V.  i. 
Mopsa.     WT.  IV.  iv. 
Morocco,  Prince  of.     Merch. 

ILL 
Mortimer,   Edmund,   Earl    of 

March.     1H4.  III.  i. 
Mortimer,    Edmund,    Earl   of 

March.     1H6.  II.  v. 
Mortimer,  Lady.     1H4.  III.  i. 
Mortimer,    Sir  Hugh.*     3H6. 

I.  ii. 
Mortimer,  Sir  John.     3H6.  I. 

ii. 
Morton.     2H4.  I.  i. 
Morton,  John,  Bishop  of  Ely. 

R3.  III.  iv. 
Moth.     LLL.  I.  ii. 
Moth.     MND.  III.  i. 


Mother     to     Posthumus,      a 

ghost.     Cym.  V.  iv. 
Mouldy.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Mowbray,  Lord.     2H4.  I.  iii. 
Mowbray,   Thomas,   Duke  of 

Norfolk.     R2.  I.  i. 
Murderers:     2H6.      III.      ii ; 

Mcb.  III.  i;    R3.  I.  iii. 
Musicians  :  Merch.  V.  i ;  Oth. 

III.  i;    R&J.  IV.  v;    TGV. 

IV.  ii. 

Mustardseed.     MND.  III.  i. 
Mutius.     TA.  I.  i. 

Nathaniel,  Sir.     LLL.  IV.  ii. 
Neighbors.     2H6.  II.  iii. 
Nerissa.     Merch.  I.  ii. 
Nestor.     T&C.  I.  iii. 
Noble,  a.     Cor.  III.  ii. 
Nobleman,  a.     3H6.  III.  ii. 
Norfolk,  Duke  of.     3H6.  I.  i ; 

R3.  V.  iii. 
Norfolk,    Duke    of,     Thomas 

Mowbray.     R2.  I.  i. 
Norfolk,  Duke  of.     H8.  I.  i. 
Northumberland.      See  Percy. 
Northumberland,      Earl      of. 

3H6.  I.  i. 
Northumberland,  Lady.    2H4. 

II.  iii. 
Nurse.     R&J.  I.  3. 
Nurse.     TA.  IV.  ii. 
Nym.     H5.  II.  i ;   MWW.  I.  i. 

Oberon.     MND.  II.  i. 
Octavia.     A&C.  III.  ii. 
Octavius    Caesar    (Augustus). 

JC.  IV.  i ;    A&C.  I.  iv. 
Officers:    CofE.    IV.    i;    Cor. 

II.  ii;  Oth.  I.  iii;   R&J.  I.  i ; 

TwN.  III.  iv;    WT.  III.  ii. 
Old  Athenian.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Old  Lady.     H8.  II.  iii. 
Old  Man.     Lear  IV.  i ;   Mcb. 

II.  iv. 


33<* 


#ppenDfr  55 


Oliver.     AYLI.  I.  1. 

Oliver   Martext,    Sir.     AYLI. 

III.  iii. 
Olivia.     TwN.  I.  v. 
Ophelia.     Hml.  I.  iii. 
Orlando.     AYLI.  I.  i. 
Orleans,  bastard  of.     1H6.  I. 

ii. 
Orleans,    Duke   of.    H5.    III. 

vii. 
Orsino,  Duke  of  Illyria.   TwN. 

Li. 
Osric.     Hml.  V.  ii. 
Ostler.     1H4.  II.  L 
Oswald.     Lear  I.  iii. 
Othello.     Oth.  I.  ii. 
Outlaws.     TGV.  IV.  i. 
Overdone,  Mrs.     Meas.  I.  u. 
Oxford,  Earl  of.    3H6.  III.  iii. 
Oxford,  Earl  of.     R3.  V.  ii. 

Page.     MWW.  I.  i. 
Page,  Mistress.     MWW.  II.  i. 
Page,  Mistress  Anne,  a  daugh- 
ter.    MWW.  I.  i. 
Page,  William,  a  son.    MWW. 

IV.  i. 

Pages  :   AWEW.  I.  i ;    AYLI. 

V.  iii ;  2H4.  I.  ii ;  H8.  V.  i ; 
R3.  IV.  ii;  R&J.  V.  ii ; 
Tim.  II.  ii.     See  Boys. 

Painter.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Pandar.     Per.  IV.  ii. 
Pandarus.     T&C.  I.  i. 
Pandulph,       Cardinal.     John 

III.  i. 
Panthino.     TGV.  I.  iii. 
Paris.   R&J.  I.  ii. 
Paris.     T&C.  II.  ii. 
Parolles.     AWEW.  I.  i. 
Patience.     H8.  IV.  ii. 
Patrician.     Cor.  III.  i. 
Patroclus.     T&C.  II.  i. 
Paulina.     WT.  II.  ii. 
Peaseblossom.     MND.  III.  i. 


Pedant.     TofS.  IV.  ii. 
Pedro,  Don.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Pembroke,  Earl  of.     3H6.  IV. 

i. 
Pembroke,  Earl  of.     John  IV. 

ii. 
Percy,  Henry,  Earl  of  North- 
umberland.    1H4.     I.     iii; 

2H4.  I.  i;    R2.  III.  i. 
Percy,       Henry       (Hotspur). 

1H4.  I.  iii;    R2.  II.  iii. 
Percy,  Lady  (wife  of  Hotspur) . 

1H4.  II.  iii;    2H4.  II.  iii. 
Percy,  Thomas,  Earl  of  Worces- 
ter.    1H4.  I.  iii. 
Perdita.     WT.  IV.  iv. 
Pericles.     Per.  I.  i. 
Peter.   2H6.  I.  iii. 
Peter.     R&J.  II.  iv. 
Peter  of  Pomfret.     John  IV.  ii. 
Petitioners.     2H6.  I.  iii. 
Peto.     1H4.  II.  ii;    2H4.  II. 

iv. 
Petruchio.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Phebe.     AYLI.  III.  v. 
Philario.     Cym.  I.  iv. 
Philemon.     Per.  III.  ii. 
Philip,  King  of  France.     John 

II.  i. 
Philo.     A&C.  I.  i. 
Philostrate.     MND.  V.  i. 
Philotus.     Tim.  III.  iv. 
Phrynia.     Tim.  IV.  iii. 
Physicians  :    Cym.  I.  v ;   Lear 

IV.  iv  ;  Mcb.  IV.  iii. 
Pierce,  Sir,  of  Exton.    R2.  V. 

iv. 
Pinch.     CofE.  IV.  iv. 
Pindarus.     JC.  IV.  ii. 
Pirates.     Per.  IV.  i. 
Pisanio.     Cym.  I.  i. 
Pistol.     2H4.  II.  iv;    H5.  II. 

i ;    MWW.  I.  i. 
Plantagenet.     See  Richard. 
Player  King.     Hml.  III.  ii. 


3flnDeic  to  Character* 


237 


Player  Queen.     Hml.  III.  ii. 
Players.     Hml.   II.  ii ;     TofS. 

Ind. 
Plebeians.     JC.    III.    ii.     See 

Citizens. 
Poet.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Poet.    JC.  IV.  iii. 
Poins.     1H4.  I.  ii ;     2H4.  II. 

ii. 
Polixenes.     WT.  I.  ii. 
Polonius.     Hml.  I.  ii. 
Pompeius,  Sextus.    A&C.  II.  i. 
Pompey.     Meas.  I.  ii. 
Popilius.     JC.  III.  i. 
Porters:    2H4.  I.  i;   1H6.  II. 

iii ;   H8.  V.  iv  ;   Mcb.  II.  iii. 
Porter's  Man.     H8.  V.  iv. 
Portia.     JC.  II.  i. 
Portia.     Merch.  I.  ii. 
Post.     2H6.  III.  i ;    3H6.  III. 

iii. 
Posthumus    Leonatus.     Cym. 

I.  i. 

Prentices.     2H6.  II.  iii. 
Priam,  King  of  Troy.     T&C. 

II.  ii. 

Priests  :     Hml.  V.  i ;  R3.  III. 

ii ;  TwN.  V.  i. 
Princess     of     France.     LLL. 

II.  i. 
Proculeius.     A&C.  V.  i. 
Prologue.    R&J;  Ho;  MND; 

Hml.  III.  ii;     H8;  T&C. 
Prospero.     Tmp.  I.  ii. 
Proteus.     TGV.  I.  i. 
Provost.     Meas.  I.  ii. 
Publius.     JC.  II.  ii. 
Publius.    TA.  IV.  iii. 
Puck,       Robin       Goodfellow. 

MND.  II.  i. 
Pursuivant.     R3.  III.  ii. 
Pyramus.     MND.  V.  i. 

Queen,     wife    of    Cymbeline. 
Cym.  I.  i. 


Queen,    wife    of    Richard    II. 

R2.  II.  i. 
Quickly,    Mrs.     1H4.    II.    iv; 

2H4.     II.    i;      H5.     II.    i; 

MWW.  I.  iv. 
Quince.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Quintus.     TA.  I.  i. 

Rambures.     H5.  III.  vii. 
Ratcliff,      Sir     Richard.     R3. 

III.  iii. 
Regan.     Lear  I.  i. 
Reignier,      Duke     of    Anjou. 

1H6.  I.  ii. 
Reynaldo.     Hml.  II.  i. 
Richard  II,  King.     R2.  I.  i. 
Richard  II,  Queen  to.   R2.II.L 
Richard    III,    King    (at    first 

Gloucester).     3H6.  Li;  R3. 

I.  i. 
Richard,   Duke  of  York,  son 

of  Edward  IV.     R3.  II.  iv. 
Richard  Plantagenet,  Duke  of 

York.      1H6.   II.   iv;    2H6. 

I.  i;    3H6.  I.  i. 
Richard    Plantagenet,    son   of 

preceding.     2H6*  ;  3H6. 1,  i. 
Richmond,  Earl  of,  later  Henry 

VII.     3H6* ;  R3.  V.  iii. 
Rivers,    Lord.     3H6.    IV.   iv; 

R3.  I.  iii. 
Robin.     MWW.  I.  iii. 
Robin  Goodfellow.    MND.  II. 

i. 
Roderigo.     Oth.  I.  i. 
Roman,  a.     Cor.  IV.  iii.     See 

Citizens. 
Romeo.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Rosalind.     AYLI.  I.  ii. 
Rosaline.     LLL.  II.  i. 
Rosencrantz.     Hml.  II.  ii. 
Ross.     Mcb.  I.  ii. 
Ross,  Lord.     R2.  II.  i. 
Rotherham,    Thomas.     Arch- 
bishop of  York.     R3.  II.  iv. 


33» 


0ppenoir  HB 


Rousillon,  Count.  See  Ber- 
tram. 

Rousillon,  Countess.  AWEW. 
Li. 

Rugby,  John.     MWW.  I.  iv. 

Rumour.     2H4.  Ind. 

Rutland,  Edmund,  Earl  of. 
3H6.  I.  iii. 

Sailors  :    Hml.  IV.  vi ;    Oth.  I. 

iii ;  Per.  III.  i. 
Salanio.     Merch.  I.  i. 
Salarino.      Merch.  I.  i. 
Salerio.     Merch.  III.  ii. 
Salisbury,  Earl   of.     H5.    IV. 

iii;    1H6.  I.  iv. 
Salisbury,  Earl  of.      2H6.  I.  i. 
Salisbury,  Earl  of.     John  III.  i. 
Salisbury,  Earl  of.     R2.  II.  iv. 
Sampson.     R&J.  I.  i. 
Sandys,  William  (Lord).     H8. 

I.  iii. 
Saturninus.     TA.  I.  i. 
Say,  Lord.     2H6.  IV.  iv. 
Scales,  Lord.     2H6.  IV.  v. 
Scarus.     A&C.  III.  x. 
Scout.     1H6.  V.  ii. 
Scribe.     H8.  II.  iv. 
Scrivener.     R3.  III.  vi. 
Scroop,  Lord.     H5.  II.  ii. 
Scroop,    Richard,    Archbishop 

of     York.     1H4.     IV.     iv; 

2H4.  I.  iii. 
Scroop,  Sir  Stephen.      R2.  III. 

ii. 
Sea-Captain     (Lieut.).     2H6. 

IV.  i ;   TwN.  I.  ii. 
Sebastian.     Tmp.  I.  i. 
Sebastian.     TwN.  II.  i. 
Secretary.     H8.  I   i. 
Seleucus.     A&C.  V.  ii. 
Sempronius.     TA.* 
Sempronius.     Tim.  III.  iii. 
Senators,  Roman.     Cor.   I.    i ; 

Cym.     III.    vii ;    Venetian. 


Oth.  I.  iii ;    Athenian.  Tim. 

II.  i ;    Coriolanian.     Cor.  I. 

ii. 
Sentinels.     1H6.  II.  i. 
Sentry.     A&C.  IV.  ix. 
Sergeant.     1H6.    II.    i ;      (at 

arms)  H8.  I.  i. 
Servants  :  A&C.  II.  vii ;  Hml. 

IV.  vi ;    1H4.  II.  iii ;    2H4. 

I.  ii;    H8.  I.  iv  ;    JC.  II.  ii ; 

Lear  III.  vii;    Mcb.  III.  i; 

Meas.  II.  ii;   Merch.  III.  i; 

Per.    III.    ii;     R2.    II.     ii ; 

TofS.    IV.    i;     Tim.    I.    ii; 

T&C.  III.  i;   TwN.  III.  iv ; 

WT.  II.  iii. 
Servilius.     Tim.  III.  ii. 
Servingmen :     Cor.     IV.      v ; 

1H6.    I.    iii;     2H6.    II.    iv ; 

Merch.  I.  ii ;   TofS.  Ind. 
Seyton.     Mcb.  V.  iii. 
Sexton.     MAdo.  I.  i. 
Sextus  Pompeius.     A&C.  II.  i. 
Shadow.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Shallow,    Justice.     2H4.    III. 

ii;    MWW.  I.  i. 
Shepherd.     1H6.  V.  iv. 
Shepherd,  Old.     WT.  III.  iii. 
Sheriff.    1H4.  II.  iv ;   2H6.  II. 

iv ;  R3.  V.  i. 
Shrewsbury,  Talbot,  Earl  of. 

1H6.  I.  iv. 
Shylock.     Merch.  I.  iii. 
Sicilius    Leonatus,     a    ghost. 

Cym.  V.  iv. 
Sicinius  Velutus.     Cor.  I.  i. 
Silence.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Silius.     A&C.  III.  i. 
Silvia.     TGV.  II.  i. 
Silvius.     AYLI.  II.  iv. 
Simonides,  King  of  Pentapolis. 

Per.  II.  ii. 
Simpcox.     2H6.  II.  i. 
Simpcox's  wife.     2H6.  II.  i. 
Simple,  Peter.     MWW.  I.  i. 


31non:  to  character* 


239 


Siward.     Mcb.  V.  iv. 
Siward,  young.     Mcb.  V.  vii. 
Slender,    Abraham.       MWW. 

Li. 
Sly,  Christopher.     TofS.  Ind. 
Smith.     2H6.  IV.  ii. 
Snare.     2H4.  II.  i. 
Snout.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Snug.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Soldiers:      A&C.      III.      vii; 

AWEW.  IV.  i ;    Cor.  I.  iv ; 

H5.    IV.    iv;     1H6.    II.    i; 

2H6.  IV.  vi ;   3H6.  IV.  viii ; 

JC.    IV.    ii;     Mcb.    V.    iv ; 

Tim.  V.  iv ;    T&C.  V.  ix. 
Solinus,     Duke    of     Ephesus. 

CofE.  I.  i. 
Somerset,  Duke  of.     1H6.  II. 

iv;  2H6.  I.  i. 
Somerset,  Duke  of .    3H6.  IV.  i. 
Somerville,    Sir    John.     3H6. 

V.  i. 
Son  that  hath  killed  his  father. 

3H6.  II.  v. 
Soothsayers.     A&C.      I.      ii ; 

Cym.  IV.  ii;    JC.  I.  ii. 
Southwell,  John.     2H6.  I.  iv. 
Speed.     TGV.  I.  i. 
Spirits.     2H6.  I.  iv. 
Spring  (Ver).     LLL.  V.  ii. 
Stafford,  Lord.     3H6.* 
Stafford,  Sir  Humphrey.    2H6. 

IV.  ii. 
Stafford,   William.     2H6.   IV. 

ii. 
Stanley,  Lord,  Earl  of  Derby. 

R3.  I.  iii. 
Stanley,  Sir  John.    2H6.  II.  iv. 
Stanley,    Sir    William.     3H6. 

IV.  v.* 
StarveliDg.     MND.  I.  ii. 
Stephano.     Merch.* 
Stephano.     Tmp.  II.  ii. 
Steward.     AWEW.  I.  iii. 
Strangers.     Tim.  III.  ii. 


Strato.     JC.  V.  v. 

Suffolk,    Earl    and    Duke    of. 

1H6.  II.  iv;    2H6.  I.  i. 
Suffolk,  Duke  of.     H8.  II.  ii. 
Surrey,  Earl  of.     2H4.* 
Surrey,  Earl  of.     R2.  IV.  i. 
Surrey,  Earl  of.     R3.  V.  iii. 
Surrey,  Lord.     H8.  III.  ii. 
Surveyor.     H8.  I.  ii. 

Tailor.     TofS.  IV.  ii. 
Talbot,    Earl   of   Shrewsbury. 

1H6.  I.  iv. 
Talbot,  John.     1H6.  I.  iv. 
Tamora,     Queen     of     Goths. 

TA.  I.  i. 
Taurus.     A&C.  III.  viii. 
Thaisa.     Per.  II.  ii. 
Thaliard.     Per.  I.  i. 
Thersites.     T&C.  II.  i. 
Theseus.     MND.  Li. 
Thieves.     1H4.  II.  ii. 
Thisbe.     MND.  V.  i. 
Thomas,  Friar.     Meas.  I.  iii. 
Thurio.     TGV.  II.  iv. 
Thyreus  (Thidias).    A&C.  III. 

xii. 
Timandra.     Tim.  IV.  iii. 
Time  (chorus).     WT.  IV.  i. 
Timon.     Tim.  I.  i. 
Titania.     MND.  II.  i. 
Titinius.     JC.  IV.  iii. 
Titus.     Tim.  III.  iv. 
Titus  Andronicus.     TA.  I.  i. 
Titus  Lartius.     Cor.  I.  i. 
Touchstone.     AYLI.  I.  ii. 
Townsmen    of     St.     Albans. 

2H6.  II.  i. 
Tranio.     TofS.  I.  i. 
Travellers.     1H4.  II.  ii. 
Travers.     2H4.  I.  i. 
Trebonius.     JC.  II.  i. 
Tressel.     R3.  I.  iii.* 
Tribunes,  Roman  :    Cym.  Ill 

vii ;  TA.  I.  i. 


340 


appenuiic  115 


Trinculo.     Tmp.  II.  ii. 
Troilus.     T&C.  I.  i. 
Tubal.     Merch.  III.  i. 
Tullus  Aufidius.     Cor.  I.  ii. 
Tutor.     3H6.  I.  iii. 
Tybalt.  R&J.  I.  i. 
Tyrrel,  Sir  James.      R3.   IV. 


Ulysses.     T&C.  I.  iii. 
Ursula.     MAdo.  II.  i. 
Urswick,      Christopher.     R3. 
IV.  v. 

Valentine.    TwN.  I.  iv. 
Valentine.     TGV.  I.  i. 
Valentine.     TA* 
Valeria.     Cor.  I.  iii. 
Varrius.     A&C.  II.  i. 
Varro,  servant.     Tim.  II.  ii. 
Varro.     JC.  IV.  iii. 
Vaughan,    Sir   Thomas.     R3. 

III.  iii. 

Vaux.     2H6.  III.  ii. 
Vaux,  Sir  Nicholas.     H8.  II.  i. 
Venice,  Duke  of .    Merch.  IV.  i. 
Venice,  Duke  of.     Oth.  I.  iii. 
Ventidius.     A&C.  III.  i. 
Ventidius.     Tim.  I.  ii. 
Verges.     MAdo.  III.  iii. 
Vernon.     1H6.  II.  iv. 
Vernon,    Sir    Richard.     1H4. 

IV.  i. 

Vincentio.     TofS.  IV.  v. 
Vincentio,  Duke.     Meas.  I.  i. 
Vintner.     1H4.  II.  iv. 
Viola.     TwN.  I.  ii. 
Violenta.     AWEW.  III.  v. 
Virgilia.     Cor.  I.  iii. 
Volsce,  a.     Cor.  IV.  iii. 
Voltimand.     Hml.  I.  ii. 
Volumnia.     Cor.  I.  iii. 
Volumnius.     JC.  V.  v. 


Wall,  MND.  V.  i. 


Warders.     1H6.  I.  iii. 
Wart.     2H4.  III.  ii. 
Warwick    (Beauchamp),  Earl 

of.     2H4.  III.  i;    H5.  IV. 

viii ;    1H6.  II.  iv. 
Warwick     (Nevil),    Earl     of. 

2H6.  I.  i;  3H6.  I.  i. 
Watchmen  :    Cor.  V.  ii ;   3H6. 

IV. iii;  MAdo. III. iii;  R&J. 

V.  iii. 
Westminster,  Abbot  of.     R2. 

IV.  i. 
Westmoreland,  Earl  of.     1H4. 

I.  i;    2H4.  IV.  i;    H5.  I.  ii. 
Westmoreland,  Earl  of.     3H6. 

I.  i. 
Whitmore,  Walter.     2H6.  IV. 

i. 
Widow.     TofS.  V.  ii. 
Widow,  of  Florence.  AWEW. 

III.  v. 
William.     AYLI.  V.  i. 
Williams.     H5.  IV.  i. 
Willoughby,  Lord.     R2.  II.  i. 
Winchester,  Bishop  of.     1H6. 

I.  i;  2H6.  I.  i. 
Winchester  (Gardiner) ,  Bishop 

of.     H8.  V.  i. 
Witches.     Mcb.  I.  i. 
Wolsey,  Cardinal.     H8.  I.  i. 
Woodville.     1H6.  I.  iii. 
Worcester,  Earl  of.    1H4. 1,  iii. 

York,  Archbishop  of.  See 
Rotherham  and  Scroop. 

York,  Duchess  of.     R2.  V.  ii. 

York,  Duchess  of.     R3.  II.  ii. 

York,  Duke  of.     H5.  IV.  iii. 

York,  Duke  of.     See  Richard. 

York,  Duke  of.  -See  Richard, 
son  of  Edward  IV. 

York,  Edmund  Langley,  Duke 
of.     R2.  II.  i. 

Young  Marcius.     Cor.  V.  iii. 


appenDfr  c 


Index  of  the  Songs  in  Shakespeare's  Plats 

The  first  lines  are  given.    In  a  few  cases  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
verses  were  sung  or  spoken. 

A  cup  of  wine  that's  brisk  and  fine,  2H4.  V.  iii. 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink,  clink ;  Oth.  II.  iii. 
And  will  he  not  come  again  ?     Hml.  IV.  v. 
An  old  hare  hoar,  R&J.  II.  iv. 

Be  merry,  be  merry,  my  wife  has  all ;  2H4.  V.  iii. 
Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind.     AYLI.  II.  vii. 
By  gis,  and  by  Saint  Charity,  Hml.  IV.  v. 

Come  away,  come  away,  Mcb.  III.  v. 
Come  away,  come  away,  death,  TN.  II.  iv. 
Come,  thou  monarch  of  the  vine,  A&C.  II.  vii. 
Come  unto  these  yellow  sands,  Tmp.  I.  ii. 

Do  me  right,  2H4.  V.  iii. 

Do  nothing  but  eat,  and  make  good  cheer,  2H4.  V.  iii. 

Farewell,  master ;  farewell,  farewell !     Tmp.  II.  ii. 
Fear  no  more  the  heat  o'  the  sun,  Cym.  IV.  ii. 
Fie  on  sinful  fantasy  !     MWW.  V.  v. 
Fill  the  cup,  and  let  it  come ;  2H4.  V.  iii. 
Flout  'em  and  scout  'em.     Tmp.  III.  ii. 
Fools  had  ne'er  less  grace  in  a  year ;  Lear  I.  iv. 
For  bonny  sweet  Robin  is  all  my  joy.     Hml.  IV.  v. 
Full  fathom  five  thy  father  lies ;  Tmp.  I.  ii. 

Get  you  hence,  for  I  must  go.     WT.  IV.  iv. 

Hark,  hark  !  the  lark  at  heaven's  gate  sings,  Cym.  II.  iii. 
He  that  has  and  a  little  tiny  wit,  —  Lear.  III.  ii. 
Honour,  riches,  marriage-blessing,  Tmp.  IV.  i. 
How  should  I  your  true  love  know.     Hml.  IV.  v. 

I  am  gone,  sir,  TN.  IV.  ii. 

If  it  do  come  to  pass,  AYLI.  II.  vi. 

In  youth,  when  I  did  love,  did  love,  Hml.  V.  i. 

I  shall  no  more  to  sea,  to  sea,  Tmp.  II.  ii. 

It  was  a  lover  and  his  lass,  AYLI.  V.  iii. 

it  241 


243  3lt«w  of  £>onga 

Jog,  jog  on,  the  foot-path  way,  WT.  IV.  iii. 

King  Stephen  was  and  a  worthy  peer,  Oth.  II.  iii. 

Lawn  as  white  as  driven  snow ;  WT.  IV.  iv.  _ 

Love,  love,  nothing  but  love,  still  more  !     T&C.  III.  1. 

No  more  dams  I'll  make  for  fish ;  Tmp,  II.  ii. 

No  more,  thou  thunder-master,  show.     Cym.  V.  iv. 

Oh  mistress  mine,  where  are  you  roaming  ?     TN.  II.  iii. 
On  the  ground,  MND.  IV.  i.  . 

Orpheus  with  his  lute  made  trees.     (Fletcher  ?)  H8.  III.  l. 
Over  hill,  over  dale,  MND.  II.  i. 

Pardon,  goddess  of  the  night,  MAdo.  V.  iv. 

Round  about  the  cauldron  go ;  Mcb.  IV.  i. 

Sigh  no  more,  ladies,  sigh  no  more,  MAdo.  II.  iii. 

Take,  O,  take  those  lips  away,  Meas.  IV.  i. 
Tell  me  where  is  fancy  bred,  Merch.  III.  ii. 
The  god  of  love,  MAdo.  V.  ii.  .. 

The  master,  the  swabber,  the  boatswain,  and  I,  Tmp.  II.  u. 
The  ousel  cock  so  black  of  hue,  MND.  III.  ii.  ... 

The  poor  soul  sat  sighing  by  a  sycamore  tree,  Oth.  IV.  in. 
They  bore  him  barefac'd  on  the  bier ;  Hml.  IV.  v. 
To-morrow  is  Saint  Valentine's  day,  Hml.  IV.  v. 
To  shallow  rivers,  to  whose  falls.     MWW.  III.  i. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree,  AYLI.  II.  vi. 

Was  this  fair  face  the  cause,  quoth  she,  AWEW.  I.  hi. 
Wedding  is  great  Juno's  crown.     AYLI.  V.  iv.  .. 

What  shall  he  have  that  killed  the  deer  ?     AYLI.  IV.  u. 
When  daffodils  begin  to  peer,  WT.  IV.  i.  . 

When  daisies  pied  and  violets  blue.     LLL.  V.  n. 
When  that  I  was  and  a  little  tiny  boy,  TN.  V.  1. 
Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  I.     Tmp.  V.  1. 
While  you  here  do  snoring  lie,  Tmp.  II.  i. 
Who  doth  ambition  shun,  AYLI.  II.  vi. 
Who  is  Silvia  ?     What  is  she,  TGV.  IV.  in. 
Will  you  buy  any  tape,  WT.  IV.  iv. 

You  spotted  snakes  with  double  tongue,  MND.  II.  ii. 


flppenftfr  © 

BIBLIOGRAPHY 

This  Bibliography  is  arranged  in  divisions  corresponding 
to  the  chapters  of  this  volume.  It  aims  to  include  those  books 
most  important  for  the  student,  and  to  furnish  guidance  for 
those  interested  in  more  specialized  fields  of  study. 

The  following  are  the  chief  general  bibliographies  : 

Shakespeare  Bibliography,  by  William  Jaggard,  Stratford- 
on-Avon,  1911.  This  is  the  most  important  and  useful  attempt 
that  has  yet  been  made  toward  a  complete  bibliography  of 
works  in  the  English  language ;  but  it  is  far  from  being  ex- 
haustive or  accurate. 

Catalogue  of  the  Barton  Collection  of  the  Boston  Public 
Library,  part  i,  Shakespeare's  Works  and  Shakesperiana, 
1878-1888.  Probably  the  best  bibliography  up  to  the  date 
of  its  publication. 

Jahrbuch  der  deutschen  Shakespeare-Gesellschaft.  Weimar, 
1865-.  The  bibliographies,  with  indexes,  issued  in  this  annual 
provide  the  best  bibliography  of  all  recent  Shakespearean 
literature  in  all  languages.  They  include  references  to 
periodicals  and  to  book  reviews. 

The  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  v,  chaps, 
viii-xii.  Cambridge,  1910.  The  best  recent  short  selected 
bibliography. 

Other  useful  bibliographical  aids  are :  the  article  on  Shake- 
speare Encycl.  Brit.,  Eleventh  ed.,  1911 ;  the  British  Museum 
Catalogue  of  Printed  Books,  1897;  the  Catalogue  of  the 
Lenox  Library,  New  York,  1880;  and  the  Index  to  the 
Shakespeare  Memorial  Library,  Birmingham,  1900. 
243 


344  apprnair  sr> 

CHAPTER  I 

Shakespeare's  England  and  London 

See  bibliographies  in  the  Cambridge  Modern  History, 
vol.  iii,  chap,  x,  and  the  Cambridge  History  of  English  Litera- 
ture, vol.  v,  chap.  xiv.  The  two  most  accessible  and  impor- 
tant works  on  the  subject  are :  William  Harrison's  Descrip- 
tion of  Britaine  and  England,  in  Holinshed's  Chronicle,  1577, 
reprinted  in  the  Shaks.  Soc.  Publ.  1877-1888,  in  the  Scott 
Library,  1899,  and  in  Everyman's  Library ;  and  John  Stow's 
Survey  of  London,  1st  ed.,  1598,  reprinted  in  Everyman's 
Library.  J.  D.  Wilson's  Life  in  Shakespeare's  England 
(Cambridge,  1911)  is  an  excellent  anthology  drawn  from 
Elizabethan  publications. 

The  following  list  includes  only  more  important  and  more 
recent  books. 

Aiken,  L.  Memoirs  of  the  Court  of  James  I.  2d  ed., 
1822. 

Ashton,  J.  Humour,  Wit,  and  Society  in  the  Seventeenth 
Century.     1883. 

Besant,  Sir  W.     London.     1892. 

London  in  the  Times  of  the  Tudors      1908. 

Creighton,  M.     The  Age  of  Elizabeth.     1892. 

Creizenach,  W.  Geschichte  des  neueren  Dramas,  Halle, 
1893.  See  vol.  iv,  part  i,  book  iii,  Religios-sittliche  und  poli- 
tisch-soziale  Anschauungen  der  Theaterdichter. 

Douce,  F.  Illustrations  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Ancient 
Manners.    1839. 

An  English  Garner.  New  ed.,  1903.  See  vols. :  Social 
England  Illustrated ;  Tudor  Tracts,  1532-1582;  Stuart  Tracts, 
1603-1698. 


Froude,  J.  A.  History  of  England  from  the  Fall  of  Wolsey 
to  the  Defeat  of  the  Armada.  1856-1870.  Reprinted  in 
Everyman's  Library. 

Gildersleeve,  V.  Government  Regulation  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan  Drama.     New    York,  1908. 

Hall,  H.     Society  in  the  Elizabethan  Age.     4th  ed.,  1901. 

Jusserand,  J.  J.  Histoire  litteraire  du  peuple  Anglais. 
Paris,  1904.  English  trans.,  1909.  See  especially  vol.  ii, 
book  v,  chap.  i. 

Lee,  S.  Stratford-on-Avon  from  the  Earliest  Times  to  the 
Death  of  Shakespeare.     1907. 

An  Account  of  Shakespeare's  England,  a  survey  of 

social  life  and  conditions  in  the  Elizabethan  age  (in  prepara- 
tion) . 

Nicholls,  J.  The  Progresses  and  Processions  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.     New  ed.,  3  vols.,  1823. 

The  Progresses,  Processions,  and  Festivities  of  King 

James  I.     4  vols.,  1828. 

Stephenson,  H.  T.  Shakespeare's  London.  New  York, 
1905. 

The  Elizabethan  People.     New  York,  1910. 

Strutt,  J.  Sports  and  Pastimes  of  the  People  of  England. 
1801.     New  ed.,  1903. 

Thompson,  E.  N.  S.  The  Controversy  between  the  Puri- 
tans and  the  Stage.  Yale  Studies  in  English,  vol.  xx.  New 
York,  1903. 

Traill,  H.  D.  Social  England.  3d  ed.,  1904.  See  vols,  iii 
and  iv. 

Wakeman,  H.  O.  The  Church  and  the  Puritans,  1570-1660. 
New  ed.,  1902. 

Wheatley,  H.  B.  London  Past  and  Present.  3  vols. 
1891. 


346  #ppenuij;  2D 

CHAPTER  II 

Biographical  Facts  and  Traditions 

Halliwell-Phillipps,  J.  O.  Outlines  of  the  Life  of  Shake- 
speare. 2  vols.  7th  ed.,  1887.  Later  eds.  are  reprints. 
With  illustrations,  facsimiles,  and  a  full  collection  of  docu- 
ments. 

Lambert,  D.  H.  Shakespeare  Documents.  (Published 
originally  as  Cartse  Shakespeareanae,  1904.)  A  chronological 
catalogue  of  extant  evidence. 

Lee,  Sidney.  A  Life  of  William  Shakespeare.  London  and 
New  York,  1898.     New  and  revised  ed.,  1909. 

Shakespeare  in  Oral  Tradition,  Chap.  Ill  in  Shake- 
speare and  the  Modern  Stage,  1906. 

The  preceding  are  the  most  important  books,  but  the  fol- 
lowing are  useful  in  various  ways :  William  Shakespeare. 
K.  Elze.  Halle,  1876.  Eng.  trans,  by  L.  D.  Schmitz,  1888. 
A  Chronicle  History  of  the  Life  and  Works  of  Shakspere. 
F.  G.  Fleay.  London,  1886.  Shakespeare's  Marriage. 
J.  W.  Gray.  1905.  Shakespeare's  Family.  C.  C.  Stopes. 
1901.  Shakespeare's  Warwickshire  Contemporaries.  C.  C. 
Stopes.  1907.  New  Shakespeare  Discoveries.  C.W.Wallace. 
Harper's  Magazine,  March,  1910.  Catalogues  of  the  books, 
manuscripts,  works  of  art,  antiquities,  and  relics  at  present 
exhibited  in  Shakespeare's  birthplace,  Stratford-on-Avon, 
1910.  For  discussion  of  portraits  of  Shakespeare,  see 
Portraits  of  Shakespeare,  J.  P.  Norris,  Philadelphia,  1885; 
M.  R.  Spielmann  in  Stratford-Town  Shakespeare,  vol.  x ;  and 
in  Encycl.  Brit.,  11th  ed.,  article  on  Shakespeare.  On  a  Portrait 
of  Shakespeare  in  the  Shakespeare  Memorial  at  Stratford-on- 
Avon,  L.   Cust,  Proc.  Soc.  Antiq.,   1895. 

See  also  Sources  of  Traditional  Material,  Appendix  A,  p.  225. 


CHAPTER  III 

Shakespeare's  Reading 

Shakespeare's  Books :  A  dissertation  on  Shakespeare's 
reading  and  the  immediate  sources  of  his  works.  By  H.  R.  D. 
Anders.     Berlin,  1904.     The  best  book  on  the  subject. 

Shakespeare's  Studies,  T.  S.  Baynes,  1893. 

Shakespeare's  Holinshed.  Ed.  W.  G.  Boswell-Stone.  1896. 
New  ed.,  1907.  A  reprint  of  the  passages  in  Holinshed's 
Chronicles  which  Shakespeare  used. 

Shakespeare's  Plutarch.     Ed.   W.  W.  Skeat.     1875. 

The  English  Novel  in  the  Time  of  Shakespeare.  J.  J.  Jus- 
serand,  trans.  E.  Lee.     1890. 

The  Shakespeare  Classics,  gen.  ed.  L.  Gollancz  (in  prog- 
ress, 1907-),  reprints  the  chief  sources  of  the  plays : 
Lodge's  Rosalynde,  Greene's  Pandosto,  Brooke's  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  the  Chronicle  History  of  King  Leir,  The  Taming  of  a 
Shrew,  The  Sources  and  Analogues  of  A  Mid-summer-Night's 
Dream,  Shakespeare's  Plutarch.  Most  of  these,  with  other 
valuable  material,  are  found  also  in  W.  C.  Hazlitt's  revision  of 
Collier's  Shakespeare  Library.     6  vols.     1875  (out  of  print). 

Many  translations  which  Shakespeare  may  have  known 
are  included  in  the  long  series  of  the  Tudor  Translations,  ed. 
W.  E.  Henley  and  Charles  Whibley  (mostly  out  of  print). 

For  drama  see  Bibliography,  chap,  vi ;  for  contemporary  lit- 
erature see  bibliography  in  Cambridge  History  of  English  Lit- 
erature ;  or  any  short  manual,  as  Saintsbury's  Elizabethan 
Literature,  or  Seccombe  and  Allen's  Age  of  Shakespeare. 
2  vols. 


248  #ppenDfr  H> 

CHAPTER  IV 

Chronology  and  Development 

The  first  thorough  attempt  to  determine  the  chronology  of 
Shakespeare's  plays  was  made  in  Malone's  "  Attempt  to 
ascertain  the  order  in  which  the  plays  attributed  to  Shake- 
speare were  written,"  published  in  Steevens's  edition  of  1778. 
His  final  conclusions  on  the  subject  are  to  be  found  in  the  pre- 
liminary volumes  of  the  1821  Variorum.  Since  then,  discussions 
of  chronology  and  development  have  appeared  in  almost  every 
edition  of  Shakespeare's  Works  and  in  many  volumes  discussing 
his  life  and  art.  (See  Bibliography  for  Chaps.  II  and  VIII.) 
The  following  are  the  most  important  contributions  to  the 
general  question  of  the  chronology. 

Hertzberg,  W.  G.  Preface  to  Cymbeline  in  Ulrici's  ed.  of 
Schlegel  and  Tieck's  trans,  of  Shakespeare,  1871. 

Metrisches,  grammatisches,  chronologisches  zu  Shake- 

speares  Dramen.     Jahrbuch,  xiii,  1878. 

Fleay,  F.  G.     Shakspere  Manual,  1878. 

New  Shakspere  Society.  Publications  for  1874  contain 
Fleay's  tests  as  originally  proposed  with  discussions  by  Furni- 
vall,  Ingram,  et  al.  Publications  for  1877-9  contain  F.  S. 
Pulling' s  essay  on  The  Speech-ending  test,  p.  457. 

Ingram,  J.  K.  On  the  weak  endings  of  Shakspere  with 
some  account  of  the  verse-tests  in  general.    N.  S.  S.  Publ.  1874. 

Konig,  G.  Der  Vers  in  Shaksperes  Dramen.  Quellen 
und  Forschungen  vol.  61,  1888.  The  fullest  presentation  of 
numerical  results  for  various  verse  tests. 

Furnivall,  F.  J.     Preface  to  the  Leopold  Shakespeare,  1876. 

Hales,  J.  W.     The  Succession  of  Shakespeare's  plays.     1874. 

Stokes,  H.  P.  Attempt  to  determine  the  chronological 
order  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  1878. 


!5tbitograpt)£  M9 

CHAPTER  V 

The  Elizabethan  Drama 

Full  bibliographies  of  both  plays  and  critical  works  are  to 
be  found  in  Schelling's  Elizabethan  Drama  and  in  the  Cam- 
bridge History  of  English  Literature,  vols,  v  and  vi. 

1.    EDITIONS   OF   PLATS 

Convenient  collections,  often  with  valuable  introductions 
and  notes,  are :  Dodsley's  Old  English  Plays,  ed.  W.  C.  Haz- 
litt,  15  vols.,  1874-1876;  Manly's  Pre-Shaksperean  Drama, 
2  vols.,  Boston;  Neilson's  Chief  Elizabethan  Dramatists, 
Boston,  1911  (30  plays  in  one  volume) ;  the  Mermaid  Series 
of  the  Old  Dramatists  (4  or  5  plays  by  one  author  in  each 
vol.) ;  the  Belles  Lettres  Edition  (with  excellent  bibliogra- 
phies), Boston ;  Masterpieces  of  the  English  Drama,  New  York ; 
Temple  Dramatists.  Valuable  reprints  of  old  plays  and 
documents  are  found  in  the  following  series  now  in  progress : 
The  Tudor  Facsimile  Texts,  ed.  J.  S.  Farmer,  43  vols.,  1907; 
Materialien  zur  Kunde  des  alteren  englischen  Dramas,  ed. 
W.  Bang,  Lou  vain,  1902 ;  Publications  of  the  Malone  Society, 
1906. 

Collected  editions  of  the  chief  dramatists  include  those  of 
Greene,  Peele,  Webster,  Ford,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  and 
Shirley,  ed.  by  Alexander  Dyce;  of  Middleton,  Marston, 
Marlowe,  and  Webster,  by  A.  H.  Bullen,  and  the  more  recent 
editions  from  the  Clarendon  Press,  —  Greene,  ed.  J.  Churton 
Collins ;  Kyd,  by  F.  S.  Boas ;  Lyly,  by  W.  Bond ;  Nash,  by 
McKerrow;  Marlowe,  by  Tucker  Brooke.  Massinger  and 
Jonson  exist  only  in  the  early  nineteenth-century  editions  of 
Gifford.    There  are  also  recent  editions  of  Beaumont  and 


35o  #ppmDtF  2D 

Fletcher  by  A.  R.  Waller,  Cambridge,  and  by  A.  H.  Bullen 
et  al.  (in  progress),  and  an  edition  of  Chapman  by  T.  Parrott. 

2.    CRITICAL  AND   HISTORICAL 

Die  Geschichte  des  neueren  Dramas.  W.  Creizenach  (in 
progress).  Halle,  1893-  .  This  is  the  standard  history  of 
the  modern  drama,  vol.  iv  dealing  in  a  masterly  fashion  with 
the  Shakespearean  period.     There  is  no  English  translation. 

History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature  to  the  Death  of 
Queen  Anne.     A.  W.  Ward.     2d  ed.     3  vols.     1899. 

Elizabethan   Drama.     F.   E.   Schelling.     2   vols.     Boston, 

1902.  This  contains  valuable  bibliographies  and  a  finding 
list  for  the  plays. 

The  Mediaeval  Stage.     E.  K.  Chambers.     2  vols.     Oxford, 

1903.  Authoritative   for   the   pre-Elizabethan   drama,   with 
valuable  bibliography  and  appendices. 

A  Bibliographical  Chronicle  of  the  English  Drama.  F.  G. 
Fleay.  1559-1642.  A  work  of  great  value  to  scholars,  but 
not  of  much  service  to  the  general  reader. 

Other  works  less  comprehensive  in  scope,  but  dealing  with 
special  aspects  or  divisions  of  the  drama,  are  :  Tragedy,  A.  H. 
Thorndike,  Boston,  1908 ;  Shakespeare  and  his  Predecessors, 
F.  S.  Boas,  1896;  Tudor  Drama,  C.  F.  Tucker  Brooke, 
Boston,  1912. 

Special  treatises  which  have  also  been  drawn  upon  for  this 
chapter  are :  F.  E.  Schelling's  English  Chronicle  Play,  New 
York,  1902;  A.  H.  Thorndike's  Influence  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  on  Shakspere,  Lemcke  and  Buechner,  N.  Y.,  1901 ;  and 
Hamlet  and  the  Revenge  Plays,  Publ.  Mod.  Lang.  Assn.,  1902 ; 
E.  E.  Stoll's  John  Webster,  1905;  F.  H.  Ristine's  English 
Tragi-Comedy,  1910;  Reyher's  Les  Masques  Anglais,  Paris, 
1909 ;  W.  W.  Greg's  Pastoral  Poetry  and  Pastoral  Drama,  1906. 


315ibltograpt)£  251 

CHAPTER  VI 

The  Elizabethan  Theater 

None  of  the  books  here  listed  gives  a  comprehensive  account 
of  the  theater.  Greg's  admirable  edition  of  Henslowe's 
Diary,  Fleay's  researches,  and  Murray's  supplements  to  them 
are  all  valuable  for  students.  The  account  of  the  stage  and 
the  method  of  performance  given  in  this  chapter  are  based 
in  part  on  Albright.  During  the  last  ten  years  there  has 
been  much  controversy  on  this  subject ;  and  those  interested 
should  consult  the  bibliographies  in  the  Shakespeare  Jahrbuch 
under  Albright,  Brodmeier,  Archer,  Chambers,  Corbin,  Law- 
rence, Reynolds,  Wegener.  For  contemporary  documents, 
see  the  Bibliography  to  chap,  x,  vol.  vi,  of  the  Cambridge 
History  of  English  Literature. 

Albright,  V.  E.  The  Shakespearian  Stage.  New  York, 
1909. 

Archer,  W.  The  Elizabethan  Stage.  Quarterly  Review, 
April,  1908. 

Brodmeier,  C.  Die  Shakespeare-Btihne  nach  der  alten 
Btihnenanweisungen.     Weimar,  1904. 

Chambers,  E.  K.  The  Stage  of  the  Globe.  Stratford 
Ed.  Shakespeare's  Works,  vol.  x. 

Collier,  J.  P.  Memoirs  of  the  Principal  Actors  in  the  Plays 
of  Shakespeare.     Shaks.  Soc,  1846. 

Feuillerat,  A.  Documents  relating  to  the  Office  of  the 
Revels  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth.     Louvain,  1908. 

Fleay,  F.  G.  A  Chronicle  History  of  the  London  Stage. 
1890. 

A  Biographical  Chronicle  of  the  English  Drama,  1559- 

1642.     2  vols.,  1891. 


352  #ppen&fr  BD 

Gildersleeve,  V.  Government  Regulation  of  the  Eliza* 
bethan  Theater.    New  York,  1908. 

Greg,  W.  W.,  ed.  Henslowe's  Diary,  2  parts.  London, 
1907-1908. 

Henslowe  Papers.   1907. 

Lawrence,  W.  J.  The  Elizabethan  Playhouse  and  other 
studies.     Stratford.     1912. 

Mantzius,  R.  A  History  of  Theatrical  Art  in  Ancient  and 
Modern  Times.     1904.     Cf.  vol.  iii. 

Murray,  J.  T.  English  Dramatic  Companies,  1558-1642. 
1910. 

Ordish,  T.  F.     Early  London  Theaters.  1894. 

Rendle,  W.     Old  Southwark  and  its  People.  1878. 

Reynolds,  G.  F.  Some  Principles  of  Elizabethan  Staging. 
Reprinted  from  Modern  Philology.     Chicago,  1905. 

What  we   know  of  the   Elizabethan   Stage,   Modern 

Philology,  July,  1911.  With  bibliography  of  recent  discus- 
sions. 

Wallace,  C.  W.  The  Children  of  the  Chapel  at  Blackfriars, 
1597-1603.     Univ.  of  Nebraska,  1908. 

Evolution  of  the  English  drama  up  to  Shakespeare : 

with  a  history  of  the  first  Blackfriars  theatre.  Stechert. 
1912. 

These  two  volumes  contain  some  newly  discovered  material, 
but  their  discussions  of  theatrical  history  are  not  valuable. 

Wegener,  R.  Die  Biihneneinrichtung  des  Shakespeareschen 
Theaters  nach  der  zeitgenbssischen  Dramen.    Halle,  1907. 


UBibliograptjp  353 

CHAPTER  VII 

History  of  the  Text 

1.   complete  editions 
In  one  volume. 

The  Globe  Edition,  ed.  W.  G.  Clark  and  W.  Aldis  Wright 
1864. 

The  'Oxford'  Edition,  ed.  W.  J.  Craig.     Oxford,  1904. 

The  'Cambridge  Poets'  Edition,  ed.  with  introductions  to 
each  play,  ed.  W.  A.  Neilson.  Boston,  1906  (the  text  used  in 
the  Tudor  Shakespeare). 

Annotated  Library  Editions. 

The  Cambridge  Shakespeare,  ed.  W.  Aldis  Wright.  9  vols. 
1863-1866.  2d  ed.,  1891-1893.  The  text  known  as  the  Cam- 
bridge text  is  very  near  to  that  of  the  Globe  ed.,  and  these 
have  been  generally  used  in  recent  editions. 

A  new  Variorum  Edition,  ed.  H.  Howard  Furness  and 
H.  H.  Furness,  Jr.  (in  progress).  Philadelphia,  1871.  This 
ed.  prints  (latterly)  the  First  Folio  text  with  exhaustive 
variants  and  annotations.  The  appendices  supply  much 
illustrative  matter.  The  following  plays  have  appeared: 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  Macbeth  (2d  ed.),  Hamlet  (2  vols.), 
Lear,  Othello,  Merchant  of  Venice,  As  You  Like  It,  The 
Tempest,  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,  A  Winter's  Tale, 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  Twelfth  Night,  Love's  Labour's 
Lost,  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Richard  III,  Julius  Caesar. 

The  Arden  Shakespeare,  general  ed.  W.  J.  Craig,  in  progress, 
^899.  Publ.  in  the  U.  S.  without  special  title  by  Bobbs- 
Merrill  Co.,  Indianapolis. 

The  Eversley  Edition,  ed.  by  C.  H.  Herford.  10  vols.,  1901- 
1907. 


254  0ppenDiv  2D 

Among  other  recent  editions  are  the  Rolfe  ed.,  40  vols., 
1871,  revised  1896;  Temple,  ed.  I.  Gollancz,  40  vols.,  1894, 
1895 ;  First  Folio,  ed.  C.  Porter  and  H.  Clarke  (following  and 
defending  the  text  of  the  First  Folio).  New  York,  1903; 
Caxton,  general  ed.  S.  Lee,  1910. 

Historical  Editions. 

The  most  valuable  is  the  Third  Variorum,  Boswell  and 
Malone,  21  vols.,  1821.  The  other  principal  editions  are  dis- 
cussed in  this  volume,  and  include :  Rowe,  1709,  1714 ;  Pope, 
1723-1725;  Theobald,  1733;  Hanmer,  1744;  Warburton, 
1747;  Johnson,  1765;  Steevens  (20  plays),  1766;  Capell, 
1768;  Steevens  (and  Johnson),  1773;  Malone,  1790;  Reed 
(Steevens  and  Johnson),  1st  Variorum,  1803;  2d  Variorum, 
1813;  Knight,  1838-1842,  second  ed.,  1842-1844 ;  Hudson, 
1851-1856 ;  Delius,  1854-1861 ;  Dyce,  1857,  second  ed.,  1864- 
1867 ;  White,  1857-1860,  second  ed.,  1859-1865. 

2.     FACSIMILE    REPRINTS 

For  a  discussion  of  conditions  of  publication  of  early  edi- 
tions, see  A.  W.  Pollard's  Shakespeare's  Folios  and  Quartos. 
1909. 

The  First  Folio.  With  introd.  by  Sidney  Lee.  Oxford, 
1902. 

The  First,  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Folios.  Methuen, 
1904-1910. 

The  First  Folio,  reprint,  L.  Booth,  1869. 

The  First  Folio,  in  reduced  facsimile,  J.  O.  Halliwell-Phil- 
lipps,  1876.     Very  small  type. 

Quarto  Facsimiles.     E.  W.  Ashbee.     48  vols.     1862-1871. 

Quarto   Facsimiles   reproduced   by   photographic   process, 


Btbliogvaplw  255 

J.  W.  Griggs,  under  the  superintendence  of  F.  J.  Furnivall. 
43  vols.     1883-1889. 

Shakespeare's  Poems  and  Pericles,  with  introduction  by 
Sidney  Lee.     5  vols.     Oxford,  1905. 

3.     GLOSSARIES,    GRAMMARS,    ETC. 

The  standard  concordance  is  Bartlett's  New  and  Complete 
Concordance,  1894.  The  standard  dictionary  and  one  of  the 
great  monuments  of  Shakespeare  scholarship  is  Alexander 
Schmidt's  Shakespeare-Lexikon.  2  vols.  Berlin,  1894,  1895. 
3d  ed.,  1902.  This  contains  valuable  appendices  on  syntax. 
The  most  recent  brief  glossary  is  C.  T.  Onion's  Shakespeare 
Glossary.  Oxford,  1911.  It  makes  partial  use  of  the  valuable 
material  in  the  New  English  Dictionary.  The  best  grammar 
in  English,  though  now  somewhat  out  of  date,  is  F.  A.  Ab- 
bott's Shakespearian  Grammar,  1869,  often  reprinted. 

The  following  are  also  of  value : 

Cunliffe,  R.  J.     A  New  Shakespearean  Dictionary.     1910. 

Dyce,  A.  A  Glossary  to  the  Works  of  Shakespeare.  1867. 
Revised  by  H.  Littledale,  1902. 

Ellis,  A.  J.  On  Early  English  Pronunciation,  with  especial 
reference  to  Shakspere  and  Chaucer.  5  parts.  E.  E.  T.  S., 
1869-1889. 

Franz,  W.  Shakespeare-Grammatik.  2  parts.  Halle, 
1898-1900.  2d  ed.,  Heidelberg,  1905.  No  English  transla- 
tion. 

Vietor,  W.  A  Shakespeare  Phonology.  Marburg  and 
London,  1906. 


2s6  #ppenDfr  2D 

CHAPTER  VIII 

Questions  of  Authenticity 
1.  the  doubtful  plays 

The  Shakespeare  Apocrypha.  Ed.  C.  F.  T.  Brooke.  Oxford, 
1908.  This  contains  texts  of  fourteen  of  the  plays  discussed 
in  this  chapter. 

Pseudo-Shakespearean  Plays.  Ed.  K.  Warnke  and  L.  Proes- 
choldt.     5  vols.     Halle,  1883,  1888.     Contains  only  5  plays. 

The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen.  Ed.  H.  Littledale.  NewShaks. 
Soc.  Publ.,  1876. 

Doubtful  Plays  of  William  Shakespeare.  Ed.  M.  Moltke. 
Leipsig,  1869.     Contains  6  plays. 

A  good  bibliography  for  the  critical  matter  on  these  plays 
is  to  be  found  in  the  Cambridge  History  of  English  Litera- 
ture, vol.  v,  pp.  442-444.  As  to  Cardenio,  connected  with 
Double  Falsehood,  see  Bradford,  G.,  Jr.,  Mod.  Lang.  Notes, 
February,  1910. 

2.    FORGERIES 

Ingleby,  C.  M.  The  Shakespeare  Fabrications.  1859.  A 
complete  review  of  the  Collier  forgeries,  with  bibliography. 

Ireland,  W.  H.  Confessions  containing  the  particulars  of 
his  fabrication  of  the  Shakespeare  manuscripts.     1808. 

Malone,  E.  Inquiry  into  the  Authenticity  (of  the  Ireland 
Ms.).     1796. 

Law,  E.     Some  Supposed  Shakespeare  Forgeries.     1911. 

Wheatley,  H.  B.  Notes  on  the  life  of  John  Payne  Collier. 
1884.     Gives  a  list  and  account  of  the  spurious  documents. 


Bibliography  257 


3.    THE   BACON   CONTROVERSY 

Allen,  C.  Notes  on  the  Bacon-Shakespeare  question. 
Boston,  1900.     An  account  of  Shakespeare's  legal  phrases. 

Bacon,  Delia.  The  Philosophy  of  the  Plays  of  Shakespeare 
Unfolded.     1857. 

Bacon,  Francis.  Life  and  Letters.  Ed.  J.  Spedding.  7 
vols.     1861-1872. 

Beeching,  H.  C.  William  Shakespeare :  Player,  Play  maker 
and  Poet.     A  reply  to  Mr.  George  Greenwood.     1908. 

Bompas,  G.  C.  The  Problem  of  Shakespeare's  Plays. 
1902. 

Booth,  W.  S.  Some  Acrostic  Signatures  of  Francis  Bacon. 
Boston,  1909. 

Donnelly,  I.  The  Great  Cryptogram.  2  vols.  Chicago, 
1887. 

Fiske,  John.  Forty  Years  of  Bacon-Shakespeare  Folly. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  1897;  reprinted  in  Century  of  Science, 
1899. 

Gallup,  E.  W.     The  Bi-literal  Cypher  of  Francis  Bacon. 

Greenwood,  G.  G.  The  Shakespeare  Problem  restated. 
Lane,  1908. 

In  re  Shakespeare  Beeching   v.  Greenwood.     Lane, 

1909. 

Lang,  A.  Shakespeare,  Bacon,  and  the  Great  Unknown. 
1912. 

Pott,  Mrs.  H.  Did  Francis  Bacon  write  Shakespeare? 
Chicago,  1891. 

Robertson,  J.  M.     The  Baconian  heresy,  1913. 

Wyman,  W.  H.     Bibliography  of  the  Shakespeare-Baconian 
controversy.     Cincinnati,    1884.     Continued  in  Shakespeari- 
ana.     Philadelphia. 
S 


258  0ppcnDtr  2D 

CHAPTER  IX 

Shakespeare  since  1616 
1.  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries 

The  Shakespeare  Allusion  Books.  Ed.  J.  Munro.  2  vols. 
This  reprints  references  to  Shakespeare  before  1700. 

Eighteenth  Century  Essays  on  Shakespeare.  Ed.  D. 
Nichol  Smith.  Glasgow.  Contains  Rowe's,  Pope's,  Theo- 
bald's, Johnson's  prefaces,  Farmer's  essay  on  Shakespeare's 
learning,  Morgann's  essay  on  Falstaff,  etc. 

Shakespearian  Wars.  T.  R.  Lounsbury.  i.  Shakespeare 
as  a  Dramatic  Artist,  ii.  Shakespeare  and  Voltaire.  2  vols. 
Yale  Univ.,  1901. 

First  Editors  of  Shakespeare  or  The  Text  of  Shakespeare 
(Pope  and  Theobald).     T.  R.  Lounsbury.     1906. 

Shakespeare  en  France  sous  l'ancien  regime.  J.  J.  Jus- 
serand.     Paris.     1898.     Eng.  trans.     London,  1899. 

Considerable  matter  in  the  following  volumes  from  the 
Clarendon  Press  bears  on  the  early  criticism  of  Shakespeare : 
Elizabethan  Critical  Essays,  ed.  Gregory  Smith,  2  vols. ; 
Seventeenth  Century  Critical  Essays,  ed.  J.  E.  Spingarn, 
3  vols. ;    Dryden's  Essays,  ed.  W.  P.  Ker,  2  vols. 

2.     THE   NINETEENTH    AND   TWENTIETH    CENTURIES 

Baker,  G.  P.  The  Development  of  Shakespeare  as  a  Drama- 
tist.    Macmillan,  1907. 

Boas,  F.  S.     Shakespeare  and  his  Predecessors.     1895. 

Bradley,  A.  C.  Shakespearean  Tragedy.  Macmillan, 
1904. 

Oxford  Lectures  on  Poetry.     Macmillan,  1909. 


H5ibliograpt)S  250 

Brandes,  G.  William  Shakespeare.  Copenhagen,  1896. 
Eng.  trans.     2  vols.,  1898. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.  Notes  and  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  etc. 
2  vols.  1849.  Reprinted  in  Everyman's  Library,  the 
New  Universal  Library,  and  Bonn's  Library. 

Collins,  J.  C.     Studies  in  Shakespeare.     1904. 

Dowden,  E.     Shakspeare :   His  Mind  and  Art.     1874. 

A  Shakspere  Primer.     1877. 

Introduction  to  Shakespeare.     1893. 

Elze,  K.  William  Shakespeare.  Halle,  1876.  Eng.  trans., 
1888. 

Goethe.  Wilhelm  Meister,  book  IV,  chaps.  13-16,  con- 
tains an  analysis  of  Hamlet. 

Wahrheit  und    Dichtung,  and  Eckermann's  Reports 

of  Goethe's  conversations  contain  references.  An  essay 
"Shakespeare  und  kein  Ende"  appears  in  his  collected 
works. 

Hazlitt,  W.  Characters  of  Shakespeare's  plays,  1817.  Re- 
printed in  Everyman's  Library,  New  Universal  Library, 
Bonn's  Library. 

Heine,  Heinrich.  Shakespeare's  Maidens  and  Women,  in 
Works.     Eng.  trans.     Heinemann,  1851. 

Jameson,  Mrs.     Shakespeare's  Heroines.     Temple  Classics. 

Kreyssig,  F.  S.  T.  Vorlesungen  iiber  Shakespeare.  2  vols. 
3d  ed.     Berlin,  1876. 

Lamb,  Charles.  On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors  (Essays  of 
Elia).     Reprinted  in  Everyman's  Library. 

On  the  Tragedies  of  Shakespeare  (Misc.  essays).  Re- 
printed in  Temple  Classics. 

Lee,  Sidney.     Shakespeare  and  the  Modern  Stage.     1906. 

Lessing,  G.  E.  Laokobn,  and  Dramatic  Notes.  Eng.  trans., 
Bonn's  Library. 


260  #ppent>fr  2D 

MacCallum,  M.  W.  Shakespeare's  Roman  Plays  and  their 
Background.     1910. 

Martin,  Lady  (Helen  Faucit).  On  Some  of  Shakespeare's 
Female  Characters.     1885. 

Matthews,  Brander.  Shakespeare  as  a  Playwright.  In 
preparation. 

Moulton,  R.  G.  Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist.  Ox- 
ford, 1885. 

The  Moral  System  of  Shakespeare.     1903. 

Raleigh,  W.     Shakespeare  (English  Men  of  Letters).     1907. 

Schlegel,  A.  W.  von.  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Litera- 
ture.    Reprinted  in  Bohn's  Library. 

Swinburne,  A.  C.     A  Study  of  Shakespeare.     1880. 

Thorndike,  A.  H.  The  Influence  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
on  Shakespeare.     Lemcke  and  Buechner,  N.  Y.,  1901. 

Wendell,  B.     William  Shakspere.     1894. 

White,  R.  G.     Studies  in  Shakespeare.     9th  ed.  1896. 

Shakespeare's  Scholar.     1854. 

Important  critical  and  interpretative  aids  will  also  be 
found  in  the  bibliographies  for  earlier  chapters,  as  in  the  com- 
plete editions  of  Shakespeare's  works,  in  histories  of  litera- 
ture and  the  drama,  or  in  special  studies,  as  Anders's 
Shakespeare's  Books,  and  Madden's  Diary  of  Master  William 
Silence. 

For  a  handy  bibliography  of  studies  of  botany,  folk-lore,  law, 
medicine,  the  supernatural  in  Shakespeare,  etc.,  see  the  Cam- 
bridge History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  v,  pp.  450,  451,  to 
which  may  be  added  Freytag,  G.,  Technique  of  the  Drama, 
Eng.  trans.  1891 ;  Matthew,  B.,  A  Study  of  the  Drama,  1910; 
Arnold,  M.  E.,  Soliloquies  of  Shakespeare,  New  York,  1911; 
Fansler,  H.  E.,  Evolution  of  Technic  in  Elizabethan  Tragedy, 
1914  ;  Archer,  W.,  Play  Making,  1912. 


315tbliograpt)i?  261 

In  the  New  Variorum  Fumess  gives  a  summary  of  the  inter- 
pretation and  criticism  for  each  play;  but  he  is  often  quite 
neglectful  of  recent  tendencies  in  criticism. 


3.    STAGE   HISTORY 

The  standard  work  for  the  English  stage  is  Some  Account 
of  the  English  Stage,  from  the  Restoration  in  1660  to  1830,  by 
J.  Genest,  10  vols.,  Bath,  1832.  There  is  no  authoritative 
history  of  the  stage  since  1832.  Information  in  regard  to  the 
Shakespearean  plays  may  be  had  in  the  lives  of  the  actors, 
as  Colley  Gibber's  Apology;  Davies's  Memoirs  of  Garrick, 
1790;  Murphy's  Life  of  Garrick,  1801 ;  Boaden's  Memoirs  of 
Mrs.  Siddons,  1827,  and  Memoirs  of  Kemble,  1825;  Cum- 
berland's Memoir,  1806 ;  Boaden's  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Inchbald ; 
Private  Correspondence  of  David  Garrick,  1831-1832; 
Cooke's  Memoirs  of  Charles  Macklin,  1808;  Macready's 
Reminiscences,  1878;  Archer's  Life  of  Macready,  1890; 
Molloy's  Life  of  Edmund  Kean,  1888 ;  Winter's  Life  and  Art 
of  Edwin  Booth,  1893;  Brereton's  Life  of  Sir  Henry  Irving, 
London,  1908. 

Baker,  H.  B.     The  London  Stage,  1576-1903.     1904. 

Brown,  J.  S.  A  History  of  the  New  York  Stage,  1732- 
1901.     3  vols.     New  York,  1903. 

Doran,  J.  Their  Majesties'  Servants.  1888.  Ed.  R.  W. 
Lowe. 

Dunlap,  W.     A  History  of  the  American  Theater.    1832. 

Fitzgerald,  P.  A  New  History  of  the  English  Stage.  2 
vols.     London,  1882. 

Hazlitt,  W.     A  View  of  the  English  Stage.     1818. 

Home,  R.  H.     New  Spirit  of  the  Age.     1884. 

Lowe,  R.  W.    Thomas  Betterton.     New  York,  1891. 


262  #ppenDij;  2D 

Lowe,  R.  W.  Bibliographical  Account  of  English  Dramatic 
Literature.    1888. 

Phelps,  W.  M.,  and  Forbes  Robertson,  J.  Life  and  Works 
of  Samuel  Phelps.     London,  1886. 

Seilhamer,  G.  O.  A  History  of  the  American  Theater. 
3  vols.     Philadelphia,  1891. 

4.     SHAKESPEARE   ON   THE    CONTINENT 

A  good  selected  bibliography  is  to  be  found  in  the  Cam- 
bridge History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  v,  pp.  456-472, 
and  a  full  bibliography  annually  in  the  Shakespeare  Jahrbuch. 
Only  a  few  of  the  most  important  titles  are  given  here,  in- 
cluding some  already  noted. 

Bohtling,  A.  R.  A.  Goethe  und  Shakespeare.  Leipzig, 
1909. 

Burckhardt,  C.  A.  H.  Das  Repertoire  des  Weimarischen 
Theaters  unter  Goethes  Leitung.     Hamburg,  1901. 

Chateaubriand,  F.  R.  de.     Shakespeare.     1801. 

Cohn,  A.  Shakespeare  in  Germany  in  the  Sixteenth  and 
Seventeenth  Centuries.     Berlin,  1865. 

Creizenach,  W.  Die  Schauspiele  der  englischen  Komodian- 
ten.     Stuttgart,  1889. 

Delius,  N.  Sammtliche  Werke,  Kritische  Ausgabe.  1854- 
1861.     5th  ed.,  1882. 

Elze,  K.     William  Shakespeare.     Halle,  1876. 

Genee,  R.  Geschichte  der  Shakespeareschen  Dramen  in 
Deutschland.     Leipzig,  1870. 

Guizot,  F.  De  Shakespeare  et  de  la  Poesie  dramatique. 
Paris,  1822. 

Heine,  H.  Shakespeares  Madchen  und  Frauen,  in  sammt- 
liche Werke.     vol.  v,  1839.     Eng.  trans.,  1895. 


315ibliogtapt)i?  263 

Hugo,  F.  V.  (Euvres  completes  de  Shakespeare,  traduites. 
18  vols.     Paris,  1856-1867. 

Hugo,  Victor.     Cromwell,  Preface.     Paris,  1827. 

William  Shakespeare.     Paris,  1864. 

Jusserand,  J.  J.  Shakespeare  en  France  sous  l'ancien 
regime.     Paris,   1898.     Eng.  trans.     London,  1899. 

Koeppel,  E.  Studien  iiber  Shakespeare's  Wirkung  auf 
zeitgenossische  Dramatiker.     Louvain,  1905. 

Kreyssig,  F.  Vorlesungen  iiber  Shakespeare  und  seine 
Werke.     1858.     3d  ed.,  1877. 

Lee,  Sidney.  Shakespeare  in  France.  In  Shakespeare  and 
the  Modern  Stage. 

Lessing,  G.  E.  Hamburgische  Dramaturgic  Nos.  12,  15, 
73.     1767,  1768. 

Lounsbury,  T.  R.     Shakespeare  and  Voltaire.     1902. 

Mezieres,  A.  Shakespeare,  ses  ceuvres  et  ses  critiques. 
Paris,  1860. 

Renan,  E.     Caliban,  Suite  de  la  Tempete.     Paris,  1878. 

Schlegel,  A.  W.  Ueber  dramatische  Kunst  und  Literatur. 
Heidelberg,  1809-1811. 

Shakespeare's  Dramatische  Werke,  iibersetzt.     1797- 

1810.  Neue  Ausgabe,  ergiinzt  und  erlautert  von  L.  Tieck. 
9  vols.  1825,  1880-1883.  Revised  by  Ulrici,  1867-1871,  by 
Grandl,  1897-1899,  by  H.  Conrad,  1905. 

Stendhal  (Henri  Bergh)  Racine  et  Shakespeare.  Paris, 
1823. 

Taine,  H.  Histoire  de  la  litterature  anglaise.  Paris,  1844. 
Eng.  trans.,  rev.  ed.,  1873. 

Ten  Brink,  B.     Shakespeare.     Strassburg,  1893. 

Tolstoi,  L.  N.     Shakespeare.     1906. 

Ward,  A.  W.  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature, 
vol.  i,  pp.  534  ff. 


Slntiejc 


Adversaria,  45. 
JZsop's  Fables,  52. 
Mthiopica  of  Heliodorus,  56. 
Albright,  V.  E.,  116,  122. 
Alchemist,  33,  95,  105. 
Alden,  R.  M.,  48,  88. 
Alleyn,  Edward,  117,  119,  120. 
All  for  Love,  169. 
All's  Well  that  Ends  Well,  52, 

57,  73,  74,  82,  174. 
Amores,  53. 
Amphitruo,  54. 
Andria,  96. 

Antonio's  Revenge,  106. 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  75,  82, 

105,   142,   169,   196,  197. 
Apollonius  of  Tyre,  60. 
Apologie  for  Actors,  156. 
Apolonius  and  Silla,  58. 
Appius  and  Virginia,  98. 
Arcadia,  61. 

Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  136. 
Arden  of  Feversham,  109,  161, 

162. 
Ariosto,  57,  58,  95. 
Aristophanes,  91,  104. 
Arraignment  of  Paris,  161. 
Aspley,  William,  143. 
As  You  Like  It,  46,  52,  57,62, 

68,  73,  80, 113,  127, 136.U74. 
Aubrey,  John,  38,  39,  43,  44. 
Autographs,  facsimiles  of,  36. 

Bacon,  Delia,  163. 

Bacon,  Francis,  2,  13,  16,  61, 

163-166,  191,  192. 
Bacon,  Matthew,  26. 


"Baconians,"  163-166. 
Bandello,  57,  58. 
Bankside,  7,  117,  120. 
Barnay,  L.  184. 
Barnes,  Barnabe,  61. 
Barons'  Wars,  62. 
Barrie,  J.  M.,  177. 
Bartholomew  Fair,  105. 
Batman  upon  Bartholome,  64. 
Beaumont   and   Fletcher,    64, 

91,  109,  110,  112,  113,  168. 
Beaumont,    Francis,    31,  110. 

See  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
Belleforest,  57. 
Beeston,  Christopher,  29,  39. 
Betterton,  Thomas,    43,    130, 

169,  174. 
Bevis  of  Hampton,  59. 
Bible,  the,  1,  64. 
Bidford,  40,  41. 
Bi-Lateral  Cypher  of  Francis 

Bacon,  164. 
Biron,  108. 
Birth  of  Merlin,  161. 
Blackfriars,   property  in,   26; 

theater,  12,  26,  32,  118,  120, 

159 
Blount,  Edward,  143. 
Boccaccio,  57,  96. 
Booth,  Barton,  174. 
Booth,  Edwin,  176,  177. 
Booth,  Junius  Brutus,  176. 
Boswell,  J.,  152. 
Bowdler,  T.,  153. 
Bradley,  A.  C,  75,  181. 
Broken  Heart,  112. 
Brome,  R.,  112. 


265 


266 


jfinDtf 


Brooke,  Arthur,  60. 
Buckinghamshire,  Duke  of,  44. 
Burbage,    Cuthbert,   32,    117, 

118,  119. 
Burbage,  James,  117. 
Burbage,  Richard,  2-1,29,32,34, 

44,  117,  118,  119,  124,  130. 
Bussy  d'Ambois,  108. 
Byron,  Lord,  191. 

Caesar,  Julius,  55,  124. 
Cambridge    Shakespeare,    153, 

154,    155. 
Cambyses,  63,  92,  98. 
Capell,  Edward,  151,  161. 
Cardenio,  160. 
Cartwright,  W.,  112. 
Catiline,  33,  108. 
Caxton,  60. 

Chambers'  Journal,  163. 
Chandos  portrait,  38. 
Changeling,  111. 
Chapman,  George,  31,  56,  91, 

103,  105,  108. 
Chaucer,  31,  53,  60. 
Chettle,  Henry,  22, 23, 103, 107. 
Cibber,  Colley,  130,  169,  174. 
Cibber,  Mrs.,  174. 
Cicero,  52. 

Cinthio,  Giraldi,  57,  58. 
City  Madam,  112. 
Clark,  W.  G.,  154. 
Clive,  Mrs.,  174. 
Cockpit  theater,  39,  118. 
Coleridge,  S.  T.,  159,  175,  179, 

180,  182. 
Colin  Clout,  61. 
Collier,  J.  P.,  153,  163. 
Collins,  Francis,  35. 
Combe,  John,  25,  26,  40. 
Combe,  William,  25. 
Comedy  of  Errors,  54,  68,  74 

78  95 
Condell"  Henry,    29,    32,    35 

142,  157. 


Confessio  Amantis,  60. 
Congreve,  William,  111. 
Constable,  Henry,  61. 
Contention  of  York  and  Lan- 

CClSt&T      1 1 )  1  . 

Coriolanus,  52,  82,  169. 
Corneille,  182. 
Cornelia,  99. 

Covent  Garden  theater,  118. 
Craig,  W.  J.,  154. 
Curtain  theater,  117,  122. 
Cushman,  Charlotte,  176. 
Cymbeline,  57,  63,  68,  73,  110, 
169,  174. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  61,  62,  113. 

D'Avenant,  Sir  William,  43, 
44,  45,  112,  168. 

Davies,  Rev.  R.,  41. 

Decameron,  57. 

Dekker,  T.,  31,  103,  104,  105, 
109,  111. 

De  la  Litterature,  185. 

Delius,  N.,  153,  154,  172. 

Dennis,  John,  177. 

De  proprietatibus  rerum,  64. 

De  Quincey,  T.,  159. 

Derby's  men,  120. 

Devrients,  the,  184. 

De  Witt  drawing  of  Swan 
theater,  120,  121. 

Diana  of  Montemayor,  58. 

Diderot,  D.,  184. 

Discovery  of  Guiana,  64. 

Distichs  of  Cato,  52. 

Donnelly,  I.,  164. 

Double  Falsehood,  160,  162. 

Dowdall,  John,  42. 

Dowden,  E.,  84,  181. 

Downes,  John,  43. 

Downfall  and  Death  of  Hunt- 
ington, 103. 

Drake,  Sir  F.,  96. 

Drayton,  Michael,  40,  61. 

Droeshout,  Martin,  37,  38  n. 


mm 


367 


Drummond,  W.,  46. 

Drury  Lane  theater,  118, 175. 

Dryden,  John,  111,  168,  169, 

170,  182,  190,  192. 
Ducis,  J.  F.,  185. 
Dunciad,  149. 

Dyce,  A.,  153,  155,  161,  172. 
Dyke,  John,  29. 

Earl  of  Leicester's  men,  119, 

120. 
Earl  of  Worcester's  men,  119. 
Eden's  History  of  Travayle,  64. 
Edward  III,  161,  162. 
Edwards,  Richard,  60. 
Edwards,  T.,  150. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  1,  2,  9,  10, 

11,  32,  79,  119,  133. 
Ellesmere,  Lord,  163. 
Ely  Palace  portrait,  37,  38  n. 
English  Dramatic  Poets,  38. 
English  Traveller,  quoted,  133. 
Epicene,  95. 

Essay  of  Dramatic  Poesie,  168. 
Essex,  Earl  of,  68,  124. 
Euphues,  62. 
Euripides,  90,  91. 
Evans,  Sir  Hugh,  51. 
Everyman  in  His  Humour,  39, 

103. 

Fables  in  Shakespeare,  52. 

Fabyan's  Chronicles,  63. 

Faerie  Queen,  61. 

Fair  Em,  161. 

Fair  Quarrel,  111. 

Faithful  Shepherdess,  113. 

Fasti,  53. 

Faucit,  Helen,  176. 

Field,  Richard,  23. 

First  Folio,  described,  141- 
143  ;  facsimile  of  title-page, 
143 ;  167 ;  introductory 
matter  in,  see  Appendix  A. 

Fisher  Quarto,  141  n. 


Fleay,  F.  G.,  72  n,  172. 

Fletcher,  John,  79,  91,  110, 
111,  112,  113,  114;  colla- 
boration on  Two  Noble 
Kinsman,  159,  160;  168, 
177,  191.  See  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher. 

Fletcher,  Lawrence,  32. 

Florio,  John.  See  Montaigne, 
57. 

Flower,  Mrs.  Charles,  37. 

Folios,  Second,  Third,  Fourth, 
145,  157. 

Ford,  John,  91,  109,  112,  113. 

Forman,  Dr.  Simon,  68. 

Forrest,  Edwin,  176. 

Fortune  theater,  11,  117,  119, 
121,  122;  diagram  of,  123. 

Foxe,  John,  Book  of  Martyrs, 
63. 

Friar  Bacon  and  Friar  Bun- 
gay, 97. 

Fuller,  Thomas,  38. 

Fulman,  Rev.  W.,  41. 

Furness,  H.  H.,  144,  154,  159. 

Galileo,  191. 
Gallup,  Mrs.,  164. 
Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  94. 
Garrick  Club  bust,  38. 
Garrick,  David,  130,  173,  174, 

175,  176,  177. 
Gascoigne,  George,  5,  58,  63. 
Gervinus,  180. 
Gesta  Romanorum,  57. 
Getley,  Walter,  25. 
Gildon,  C,  146. 
Goethe,  179,  180,  183,  190. 
Globe  Shakespeare,  154. 
Globe  theater,   11,    117,   118, 

119,  120,  121,  124,  177. 
Glover,  J.,  154. 
Golding,  Arthur,  53. 
Gorboduc,  98. 
Gottsched,  J.  C,  182. 


268 


31nueF 


Gower,  31. 

Grafton's  Chronicles,  63. 
Great  Cryptogram,  164. 
Greene,  Robert,  attack  on  S., 

20-23:   62,  63,   90,   96,   97, 

101,  102,  158. 
Greene's  Funeralls,  21,  22. 
Greene's   Groatsworth  of   Wit, 

20-22. 
Greg,  W.  W.,  140  n. 
Gresham,  Sir  Thomas,  10. 
Grey,  Z.,  150. 
Guarini,  G.  B.,  113. 
Guizot,  F.,  185. 
Guy  of  Warwick,  59. 

Hakluyt,  Richard,  64. 
Hall,  John,  25,  34. 
Hall,  Susanna,  25,  34. 
Hall,  William,  35,  42. 
Halliwell-Phillipps,  J.  O.,  153, 

181. 
Hall's  Union  of  Lancaster  and 

York,  63,  101. 
Hamburgische       Dramaturgic, 

182 
Hamlet,  43,  45,  47,  49,  54,  63, 

73,  75,  81,  87,  100,  160,  107, 

119,  135,  136,  137,  145,  169, 

184,  185. 
Hamlet,    the    lost,    100,    106, 

107. 
Hanmer,  Sir  T.,  149,  150. 
Harness,  W.,  153. 
Harsnett's  Popish  Impostures, 

62. 
Hart,  J.  C.,  163. 
Hazlitt,    William,    175,    179, 

180. 
Heath,  B.,  150. 
Hecatommithi,  58. 
Heliodorus,  56. 
Heminge,    John,    29,   32,   35, 

142,  157. 
Henderson,  J.,  175. 


1  Henry  IV,  30,  62,  73,  137. 

2  Henry  IV,  30,  62,  69. 
Henry  V,  52,  56,  63,  68,  79, 

135,  136,  149. 

1  Henry  VI,  63,  77,  102,  120, 
141,  157. 

2  Henry  VI,  52,  54,  63,  77,  99, 

102,  141,  157,  161. 

3  Henry  VI,  21,  63,  77,  99, 102, 

157,  161,  169. 
Henry  VIII,  34,  63,  74,  124, 

157,  160,  162. 
Henry  VIII,  10,  11,  43,  79. 
Henryson,  Robert,  60. 
Henslowe,  P.,  117,  119. 
Herder,  J.  G.,  183. 
Hero  and  Leander,  62. 
Heyes  Quarto,  141  n. 
Heywood,    Thomas,    31,    95, 

105,    111,    131;    quoted    in 

publishing,     132-134,     135, 

156. 
History   of   English   Dramatic 

Poetry,  163. 
Hoffman,  107. 
Hollar,  W.,  120. 
Hollinshed'a  Chronicles,  63,  65, 

101. 
Homer,  56,  96,  187,  194. 
Honest  Whore,  105. 
Hooker,  Richard,  2,  61. 
Hope  theater,  117,  119. 
Horace,  51,  54. 
Horestes,  98. 
Hugo,  F.  V.,  185. 
Hugo,  Victor,  185. 
Hunsdon's  men,  120. 
Huon  of  Bordeaux,  59 

Ibsen,  H.,  177. 

//  you  know  not  me  you  know 

nobodie,  quoted,  133,  134. 
Ingram,  J.  K.,  72  n. 
Ireland,  W.  H.,  162,  163. 
Irving,  Sir  Henry,  176. 


ifittDejt; 


369 


Jacob,  E.,  161. 
Jaggard,  Isaac,  143. 
Jaggard,  William,  140  n,  143, 

156. 
James  I,  9,  12,  32,  44,  69,  119, 

120. 
James  IV,  98. 
Janssen,  Gerard,  37. 
Jocasta,  98. 
Johnson,    Samuel,    150,    151, 

152,  178,  179,  182. 
John,  King,  78. 
Jonson,     Ben,      13,     29,     30, 

31,  33,   39,  40,  45,  46,   50, 

63,    91,  95,    103,    105,    107, 

10S,  109,  111, 112, 114,  131; 

eulogy  of  S.,  167,  168;  182, 

190. 
Jordan's  Collections,  162. 
Jordan,  Mrs.,  175. 
Julius  Ccesar,  81, 105,  108, 169, 

182. 
Jusserand,  J.  J.,  185. 
Juvenal,  54. 

Kean,  Edmund,  175. 
Kemble,  J.  P.,  162,  175. 
Kempe,  Will.,  24. 
Kendrick,  152. 
Kesselstadt,  death-mask,  38. 
Kind-Heart's  Dream,  22. 
King  and  No  King,  109. 
King  Cophetua  and  the  Beggar 

Maid,  59. 
King  John,  30,  52.  63,  78,  141, 

161. 
King's  men,  120. 
Kipling,  Rudyard,  51. 
Kirkman's  Drolls,  120. 
Knight,  Charles,  153,  154. 
Knight's  Tale,  60. 
Konig,  G.,  72  n,  75. 
Kyd,  Thomas,  63,  90,  98,  99, 

100,  101,  102,  105,  106,  107, 

158,  167. 


Lacy,  John,  39. 

Lamb,  Charles,  159,  175,  179. 

Langbaine,  G.,  38. 

La  Place's  translation,  184. 

Lear,  47,  49,  61,  62,  63,  75,  81, 

85,  99,  114,  135,  140,  140  n, 

169. 
Lee,  Sidney,  181. 
Legend  of  Good  Women,  60. 
Leicester,  Earl  of,  5,  119. 
Lessing,  G.  E.,  182. 
Le  Tourneur,  P.,  184,  185. 
Lily's  Grammar,  51,  54. 
Littledale,  H.,  159. 
Lives  of  eminent  men,  38. 
Livy,  55,  60. 
Locrine,  100,  157,  158. 
Lodge,  Thomas,  62. 
Londinopolis,  120. 
London,  described,  6-12. 
London  Prodigal,  157,  158. 
Lope  de  Vega,  95. 
Lord     Admiral's     men,     119, 

120. 
Lord  Chamberlain's  men,  120. 
Lover's  Complaint,  A,  62,  156. 
Love's  Labour's  Lost,   29,  30, 

51,  52,  74,  78,  88,  97,  137, 

156,  189. 
Love's  Labour's  Won,  30. 
Lowin,  John,  43,  130. 
Lucan,  55. 
Lucian,  56. 
Lucrece,  23,  29,  30,  53,  64,  62, 

87,  131. 
Lucy,  Sir  T.,  41. 
Lyly,  John,  63,  90,  95,  96,  97, 

102,  113,  167. 

Macbeth,  68,   74,   75,   81,  99, 

169,  174,  183,  185. 
Macklin,  C,  175. 
Macready,  W.,  176. 
Maid's  Tragedy,  109. 
Malcontent,  104  ;   quoted,  134. 


270 


Iflnoe* 


Malone,   Edmund,   152,   163, 

172. 
Malory,  Sir  T.,  96. 
Mannering,  Arthur,  26. 
Manningham,  John,  44. 
Mantuan's  Eclogues,  52. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  13,  16, 

62,  63,  68,  72,  90,  98,  99, 

101,  102,  104,  105,  106,  158, 

167,  177. 
Marlowe,  Julia,  176. 
Marston,    J.,  103,    104,    106, 

107,  134. 
Mason,  J.  M.,  152. 
Masque  of  the  Inner   Temple 

and  Gray's  Inn,  160. 
Massinger,  Philip,  91,  92,  111, 

112,  168. 
Matthews,  Sir  T.,  165. 
Measure  for  Measure,  58,  63, 

82,  83,  104. 
Memoirs    of    Edward    Alley n, 

163. 
Mennes,  Sir  John,  41. 
Menwchmi,  54. 
Merchant  of  Venice,  30,  57,  58, 

80,  85,  99,  137,  140  n,  174, 

184. 
Meres,        Francis,       Palladis 

Tamia,  27,  68. 
Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton,  161. 
Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  51, 

58,  60,  73,  80,  95,  135,  136, 

140  n,  169. 
Messalina,  120,  121,  122. 
Metamorphoses,  53. 
Mezieres,  A,  185. 
Middleton,  Sir  Hugh,  10. 
Middleton,  T.,  103,  104,  107, 

109. 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  30, 

40,  53,  58,  59,  60,  61,  73,  80, 

97,  124,  137,  140  n,  184. 
Milton,  John,  114,  168,  194. 
Miracle  plays,  5,  93. 


Miseries  of  Enforced  Marriage, 

159. 
Misfortunes  of  Arthur,  98. 
Moliere,  91,  95. 
Montagu,  Mrs.  Elizabeth,  178. 
Montaigne,  56. 
Montemayor,  George  of,  58. 
Morality  plays,  93,  94. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  life  of,  17. 
Morgann,  M.,  179. 
Mother  Bombie,  95,  97. 
Mountjoy,  Christopher,  27. 
Much  Ado  About  Nothing,  51, 

57,  80,  137,  148,  174. 
Mucedorus,  103,  161. 
Munday,  A.,  95,  103. 
Music,  Shakespeare  in,  186. 

Neidig,  W.  J.,  140  n. 
Neilson  Text,  154. 
Newcastle,  Duchess  of,  168. 
Newington  Butts  theater,  120. 
New  Variorum,  144,  154. 
New   Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts, 

112. 
Nice  Wanton,  92. 
North,   Sir  Thomas,  56.     See 

Plutarch. 

Oldcastle,  Sir  John,  140  n. 
Old  Fortunatus,  103. 
Oldys,  William,  45. 
Othello,  58,  64,  75,  81,  85,  99, 
114,  169,  170,  184,  185,  195. 
Otway,  T.,  169. 
Ovid,  53,  60,  65,  87,  96. 
Oxford  Shakespeare,  154. 

Painful  Adventures  of  Pericles, 

159. 
Painter's  Palace   of  Pleasure, 

57,  61. 
Palmer,  J.,  175. 
Palladis  Tamia,  29,  30,  68. 
Pandosto,  62. 


3|nDer 


371 


Passionate  Pilgrim,  30,  156. 

Pastor  Fido,  113. 

Pavier,  T.,  140  n. 

Pecorone,  II.,  68. 

Peele,  George,  63,  90,  113,  158. 

Pericles,  60,  75,  83,  114,  135, 
136,  140,  140  n,  145,  148, 
151,  157,  158. 

Persius,  54. 

Petrarch,  58. 

Phelps,  S.,  176. 

Philaster,  109,  110,  113. 

Philip,  Augustus,  29,  32. 

Phillips,  Edward,  38. 

Philosophy  of  the  Plays  of  S., 
163. 

Phoenix  and  the  Turtle,  156. 

Piacevoli  Notti,  58. 

Plautus,  54,  93,  95. 

Pleasant  Dialogues  and  Dra- 
mas, 133. 

Pliny,  55,  64. 

Plume,  Archdeacon,  41. 

Plutarch's  Lives,  52,  55,  56. 

Poetaster,  104. 

Pollard,  A.  W.,  140  n. 

Pope,  Alexander,  144,  147, 
148,  149,  158. 

Pope,  Thomas,  29. 

Preston,  T.,  63. 

Pritchard,  Mrs.,  174. 

Prince's  men,  119. 

Puritan,  the  158. 

Puritan  Widow,  157. 

Putnam's  Monthly,  163. 

Quartos,  135-140;  table  of, 
138,  139;  of  apocryphal 
plays,  158. 

Queen's  Arcadia,  113. 

Queen's  Chapel  boys,  118. 

Queen's  men,  119. 

Quiney,  Richard,  28. 

Quiney,  Thomas,  son-in-law  of 
8.,  28. 


Rabelais,  57. 

Racine,  91,  182. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  13,  16,  64. 

Ralph  Royster  Doyster,  95. 

Rape  of  Lucrece,  quoted,  132. 

Recuyell  of  Troy,  60. 

Red  Bull  theater,  117,  120. 

Reed,  I.,  152. 

Rehan,  Ada,  176. 

Return  from  Parnassus,  30. 

Revenger's  Tragedy,  107. 

Richard  II,  29,  36,  52,  62,  79, 

99,  106,  169. 
Richard  III,  36,  54,  63,  77,  99, 

102,  135,  140,  154,  169. 
Riche,  Barnaby,  58,  61. 
Ristori,  Madame,  185. 
Ritson,  T.,  152. 
Roberts  Quartos,  140  n,  141  n. 
Robertson,  Sir  Forbes,  176. 
Robin  Hood,  159. 
Robin  Hood  plays,  103. 
Romance  of  Yachting,  163. 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  30,  60,  73, 

74,  77,   106,  135,   136,  137, 

169,  174,  182,  183,  195. 
Romeus  and  Juliet,  60. 
Ronsard,  57. 
Rosalynde,  62. 
Rosamond,  62. 
Rose  theater,  117,  119,  120. 
Rossi,  185. 
Rowe,    Nicholas,   42,   43,   45, 

146,  147,  158,  172. 
Rowley,  W.,  111. 
Roxana,  120,  121. 
Rutland,  Earl  of,  164. 
Rymer,  T.,  170. 

Sadler's  Wells,  176. 
Salisbury  Court  theater,  118. 
Salvini,  T.,  185. 
Sanazzaro,  96. 
Schlegel,  A.  W.,  180,  183. 
Schmidt's  Lexicon,  183. 


272 


Klnuer 


Schroeder,  F.,  184. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  191. 

Sejanus,  33,  108. 

Seneca,  54,  93,  99,  100,  105. 

Sententice  Pueriles,  52. 

Shakespeare,  Anna,  18. 

Shakespeare,  Anne  (Hatha- 
way), 19. 

Shakespeare,  Edmund,  18. 

Shakespeare,  Gilbert,  18,  46. 

Shakespeare,  Hamnet,  20,  85. 

Shakespeare,  Joan,  18. 

Shakespeare,  John,  4,  5,  18, 
24,  40,  41. 

Shakespeare,  Judith,  20,  35. 

Shakespeare,  Mary  Arden,  18, 
24,  35. 

Shakespeare,  Richard,  18. 

Shakespeare,  Susanna,  25,  34. 

Shakespeare,  William.  <See 
Contents.  Monument  of, 
frontispiece ;  facsimile  auto- 
graphs of,  36 ;  portrait  of 
in  First  Folio,  143. 

Shakespeare  and  the  Drama, 
Schlegel's,  183. 

Shakespeare  Restored,  148. 

Shakespeare  Society,  New, 
160. 

Shaw,  G.  B.,  177. 

Shelley,  P.  B.  191. 

Sheridan,  T.,  162. 

Shirley,  James,  91,  92,  112, 
113. 

Shirley,  Sir  A.,  164. 

Short  View  of  Tragedy,  170. 

Siddons,  Mrs.  Sarah,  175,  177. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  13,  16,  61. 

Simpson,  R.,  161. 

Singer,  S.  W.,  153. 

Sir  Thomas  More,  161,  162. 

Sir  Thomas  Oldcastle,  157,  158. 

Slye,  William,  29. 

Smethwick,  John,  143. 

Smith,  W.  H.,  163. 


Soliman  and  Perseda,  100. 
Somers,  Sir  George,  68. 
Sonnets,    evidence   of,    47-^19 ; 

57,   58;    date    of,   87,    156; 

personality  in,  189,  190. 
Sophocles,  184. 
Sothern,  Edward,  176. 
Southampton,     Earl     of,    23, 

47. 
Southwell,  T.,  166. 
Spalding,  William,  159. 
Spenser,   Edmund,  2,    16,   61, 

178. 
Spanish  Tragedy,  99,  100,  106, 

107. 
Squire  of  Low  Degree,  59. 
St.  Paul's,  7,  8,  90,  118,  159. 
Stael,  Madame  de,  185. 
Stage,  typical  Shakespearean, 

illustration,  116. 
Stationers'  Company,  68,  135, 

136. 
Steevens,  G.,  151,  152. 
Stowe,  John,  Annals,  63. 
Strange's  men,  120. 
Stratford,     described,     4,     5; 

Shakespeare  at,  18-35. 
Sturley,  Abraham,  28. 
Suckling,  Sir  John,  112,  168. 
Supposoti,  I,  58,  95. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  13. 
Swan  theater,  117,  119,  120. 

Tables  of  metrical  tests,  71, 
72  ;  of  chronology  of  plays, 
76 ;  of  quarto  editions,  138, 
139. 

Tamburlaine,  98. 

Taming  of  a  Shrew,  161. 

Taming  of  the  Shrew,  51,  58,  60, 
63,  80,  85,  141,  184. 

Taylor,  Joseph,  43,  130. 

Tears  of  the  Muses,  61. 

Tempest,  The,  53,  67, 64,  68,  73, 
74,  83,  110,  114,  169,  189. 


31nt>er 


273 


Tennyson,  A,  190. 
Terence,  51,  54,  93,  95,  96. 
Terry,  Ellen,  176. 
Testament  of  Cressid,  60. 
Theater,   in   Shoreditch,    117, 

118,  119,  120. 
Theatrum  Poetarum,  38. 
Theobald,  L.,   148,   149,   150, 

162. 
Theocritus,  96. 
Thomas   Lord   Cromwell,    157, 

158 
Thorpe,  Thomas,  47. 
Tieck,  L.,  183. 
Timber,  46. 
Timon    of    Athens,    56,    157, 

169. 
'Tis     Pity     She's     a     Whore, 

112. 
Titus  Andronicus,  30,  51,  53, 

54,  77,   100,  140,   157,  158, 

169. 
Tourgenieff,  194. 
Tourneur,  C,  107,  112. 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  56,   60, 

82,  104,  114,  169. 
Troilus  and  Cressida,   (Chau- 
cer's), 60. 
Troublesome  Reign     of    King 

John,   161. 
True  Tragedy  of  Richard  III, 

100. 
True      Tragedy      of     Richard 

Duke  of  York,  21,  161. 
Tudor  Shakespeare,  38  n,  154, 

161. 
Twelfth  Night,  51,  56.  57,  58, 

73,  80,  114,  120,  146,  174. 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  30, 

58,  78,  98. 
Two  Italian  Gentlemen,  95. 
Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  The,  34, 

60,  110,  157,  159,  160,  162, 

169. 
Tyrwhitt,  T.,  152. 


Udall,  N.,  95. 
Ulrici,  180. 
Upton,  J.,  150. 

Venus  and  Adonis,  23,  29,  30, 

53,  62,  87,  131. 
Virgil,  53,  96. 
Volpone,  33,  105. 
Voltaire,  178,  184,  185. 
Vortigern,  162. 

Wagner,  C,  152. 
Walker,  Henry,  26. 
Walker,  Sidney,  172. 
Wallace,  C.  W.,  26,  27. 
Walton's  Lives,  17. 
Warburton,  W.,  150. 
Ward,  Rev.  J.,  40. 
Ward,  W.  A.,  172. 
Warner,  Mrs.,  176. 
Watson,  Thomas,  61. 
Webster,  John,    31,    91,    104, 

107,  109,  111,  112. 
Weever,  John,  30. 
Whetstone,  George,  58,  60,  63. 
White  Devil,  31,  107. 
White,  R.  G.,  153,  172. 
Wieland,  183. 
Wilhelm  Meister,  183. 
Wilson,  Robert,  94. 
Winchester,  Bishop  of,  7. 
Winter's  Tale,  62,  85,  110,  174. 
Wise  Woman  of  Hogsdon,  95. 
Wolsey,  life  of,  17. 
Woman  Killed  with  Kindness, 

105. 
Wood,  Anthony,  43. 
Wordsworth,  191. 
Worthies  of  England,  38. 
Wright,  W.  A.,  154,  172. 
Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  13. 
Wycherley,  W.,  111. 

Yorkshire  Tragedy,  128,  140  n, 
157,  158,  159. 


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